Anchor Me Back Down
by flylikeadcriss
Summary: Kurt is eight years old when he loses his mother. He's twelve years old when he finds Burt, Rachel, Blaine, and maybe, for the first time in a long time, a family. Anderberry siblings and Klaine
1. Chapter 1

**So somehow, after a long hiatus, I find myself writing fanfiction again. Here's hoping I've still got it and all the fics I started years ago that I'm now trying to finish are still relevant.**

 **I don't own Glee.**

* * *

Kurt sits on the bench outside the small office, kicking his feet, trying to ignore the stupid ugly sneakers that are too big for him even as he looks down at them.

They think he can't hear them through the cracked door, but he's gotten really good at listening in on whispered conversations. They're about him far too often. He can only make out snippets, though, so he tries harder, listens closer.

"...behavior problems..." he hears before the murmurs lower again, and his eyes sting. He's so sick of hearing those words, but he's even more sick of them being said behind his back, like they were afraid to say them in front of him or even *to* him. Especially to him.

He hates to feel grateful for the too-big, too-old gray hoodie he has wrapped around himself, but it's cold in the office, and it actually helps to wrap it more tightly around himself. It's always cold in these offices. Always.

Then the murmuring stops, and Kurt quickly looks away from the door as it opens, then glances back at the sound of his name.

"Kurt," the woman says-she probably told him her name at some point, but all the social workers have kind of blended together in his mind by this point and now they all look pretty much the same to him. "Kurt, say hello, okay?"

She says it like she expects him to say something else, like she's worried he's going to curse or refuse to say anything or something, but he's learned better than that by now.

"Hello," he says dully, looking up at the large gruff-looking man above him. He looks kind of nervous but he has kind eyes under his ratty baseball cap.

But that doesn't mean anything, Kurt reminds himself. Another thing he's learned-it's not nearly as hard to fake kindness as most people think.

The man-Burt Hummel, as his social worker introduces him-tries hard on the drive to the house. He asks a lot of questions, but they're not too probing and he doesn't get mad when Kurt gives him monosyllabic answers, so it's not too bad.

* * *

They pull up in front of a house-kind of small, but with a large yard, painted in a somehow comforting shade of yellow, and with an actual picket fence, the kind you read about in books, the kind houses are supposed to have.

Kurt hesitates as Burt opens the back of the car and takes out the small suitcase that holds everything Kurt owns, and when Burt comes up to his window, he says suddenly, "Do I have to call you dad?"

"What?" Burt asks, pausing, hand on the door handle to let Kurt out.

"The last house I was at, we had to call them mom and dad, and they got mad when we didn't want to," Kurt says, avoiding eye contact, but he does see Burt's shrug.

"You call me whatever you want," he says. "Just...try to keep it PG."

Kurt actually cracks a small smile at that, and when the door is opened for him, he says carefully, "Thanks. Burt."

"No problem," Burt says.

* * *

The room Burt shows him is kind of...bare. But it has its own bathroom attached to it, and a bigger bed than he's used to - as big as the one he'd shared with his mom when they lived in that motel for a while.

"This is just for me?" Kurt asks dubiously.

"I didn't really know what kind of stuff you'd want," Burt says, nodding and scratching his head awkwardly. "I mean, when I was your age I just had posters of bands you kids probably haven't even heard of."

One of the first homes he'd stayed in after his mother went away, back when he was just eight, Kurt had shared a room with two teenage boys who plastered the walls with posters of half -naked girls on motorcycles and car hoods. Kurt hated those posters.

"It's fine," Kurt says.

"I thought we could order pizza or something," Burt says. "Maybe tomorrow go shopping, you can tell me what kind of food and stuff you like."

"Pizza's good." He walks over to the window above the empty desk and sees he has a view of their neighbor's backyard. Up in a large tree, level with Kurt as he stares out the window, there's a treehouse. He thinks he sees light shining through the gaps in the boards, and wonders if there are kids in there.

"The neighbors have two kids about your age," Burt says, as if he can read his thoughts. "They'll be at the same school as you, I think in the same grade too. They're good kids."

Kurt no longer trusts adults' assessments of other kids. Kids are just as good as adults at faking kindness.

* * *

Later that night, Kurt takes a shower in his own bathroom, and he uses this coconut shampoo that Burt must have bought for him and put there. It looks new.

Then he opens his suitcase, and with his pajamas, he takes out the silk scarf that he keeps hidden. If any of the kids at the last house saw it, they'd take it without a second thought.

After all this time, it doesn't really smell like his mom anymore. But he still holds it tight against his cheek as he curls up in the big empty bed and falls asleep.

* * *

He's woken up the next morning by the smell of bacon and coffee.

He tucks his mother's scarf deep down in his pillowcase, where nobody will find it unless they're really looking, pulls on too-big jeans and a too-small sweater, and hesitantly makes his way downstairs.

"Hey," Burt says when he sees Kurt enter the kitchen. "You want some eggs? Or bacon?" He hesitates, then adds, "Coffee?"

Kurt wrinkles his nose. "Coffee's gross," he says. "Bacon's bad for you."

"Eggs, then?" Burt asks again, looking faintly amused.

"Okay," Kurt agrees, watching as Burt scoops some out onto a plate and sets it on the small table in the corner of the kitchen, then sits down and pokes at them with a fork.

"They're one of the only things I'm good at cooking," Burt admits, sitting down across from Kurt with his own plate. Kurt eats a few bites, and they're actually not too bad.

He's almost cleared the plate when the doorbell rings. He jumps, but doesn't move when Burt gets up to get the door.

When the door opens, he hears an excited girl's voice, and a quieter boy's voice. He can't make out much from a couple rooms away, but before he knows it the girl's voice is getting louder, and then she's in the kitchen with him.

She has straight brown hair and wide brown eyes, and is wearing a gaudy pink dress, but he probably can't judge other people's clothing given his own. At least hers look new.

"Hi!" she says, grinning, and then a boy appears behind her, also with wide brown eyes but he has wild, curly black hair and is wearing a polo shirt and bowtie that Kurt actually kind of likes.

"Rachel," the boy says. "Rachel, we weren't supposed to just run in the house, Dad said we should just ask-"

"Do you want to come over to our house?" the girl - Rachel, Kurt supposes - says excitedly, as Burt appears behind her. "We're right next door."

"Rachel," Burt sighs, "Kurt is just settling in, I don't know if he feels like-"

"Okay," Kurt says. He's not looking at Rachel, but at the boy behind her, who has been worrying his lip between his teeth, but is now grinning widely at Kurt's agreement. "But...just for a little bit."

"You sure?" Burt asks, and Kurt actually isn't totally sure, but at least with these kids, if they're faking in front of Burt and all they want is to hurt him, he can run straight back to his own empty bedroom where they won't be able to touch him. So he nods. "Okay. We'll go out later, okay? Get some food. Healthy stuff."

"Okay," Kurt says again, and while he does jerk away when Rachel tries to grab his hand, he follows as she bounds out of the house.

The boy - her brother, Kurt guesses-hangs back with Kurt, and they walk more slowly out the door. "I'm Blaine," he says shyly, looking up at Kurt through his long eyelashes, and Kurt swallows, kicks a rocks out of the way with his stupid too - big sneakers.

"I'm Kurt," Kurt says after a minute.

They approach the gate to Rachel and Blaine's backyard to find Rachel waiting for them impatiently.

"Come on, I want to show Kurt the treehouse!" she says, and grins again when Kurt finally reaches her. "We heard you were coming. We didn't know what you'd be like though. How old are you?"

She leads him over to the big tree Kurt had seen through his bedroom window. She gestures for Kurt to go first, but Kurt's too smart for that, he knows that going in someplace first is how you get cornered.

Rachel doesn't seem to get why he isn't going up the ladder, but Blaine runs past her and climbs up himself, then looks down at Kurt from the top of the ladder.

"It's safe," he promises.

Kurt carefully puts a hand on the first board nailed to the tree, and climbs.

Once they're all inside, and Kurt has taken a seat closest to the entrance so he'll be able to get out first if he needs to, he remembers Rachel's question.

"I'm twelve," he says, and Rachel claps excitedly.

"Us too!" she says, gesturing over to Blaine. "We're twins. I'm older though."

"By, like, one minute," Blaine says, frowning, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Still older. Are you going to go to school with us?"

"Oh." Kurt remembers what Burt said the night before. "Yeah, I think so."

"Are you an orphan?"

Kurt bristles, and Blaine elbows her, hissing "Rachel!" He turns to Kurt. "You don't have to tell her. She's just nosy."

And even though Kurt agrees that he doesn't have to answer Rachel's questions, he does feel like he should set the record straight.

"No," he says, firmly. "I'm not. I have a mom. She just had to go away a while, and when she comes back I'm going to live with her again. And I have a dad, but he lives really far away. I'm not an orphan."

"Oh." Rachel somehow seems to not have noticed Kurt's chagrin at her questioning. "How long are you going to be here with Mr. Hummel?"

"I don't know," Kurt says, frowning, because he's getting tired of all the questions. "Until he sends me back."

It's quiet for a minute, then Blaine nudges Kurt's foot with his own.

"We don't know our mom," he says. "I'll bet yours is nice."

Kurt conjures up the fuzzy images he still has of his mom - he hasn't seen her in a long time, and he always makes sure to think of her every day so he never forgets what she looks like.

"Yeah," he says. "She is."

Fortunately, Rachel pipes up again, and while it's usually annoying when people only talk about themselves, right now it's a welcome break from having to answer her questions.

"We had a surrogate," she says. "They thought it was just going to be me but then it turned out we were twins. Our dads always say they got so lucky because they got two for the price of one."

Kurt frowns. "You have two dads?"

"Yes," Rachel says, once again not appearing to notice his expression, and says, with a grin, "We got two for the price of one, too. That's what we always say. Did you meet your dad?"

Kurt looks away from her, and Blaine once again nudges Rachel.

"Rach," he says, and Rachel rolls her eyes but falls silent.

"Do you want to meet our dads?" Blaine offers. "They'll like you."

Kurt looks out the treehouse's one small window. He can just make out the inside of his bedroom.

"I should go," he says, and pushes himself carefully over to the entrance. "I mean, I have to go now."

"Oh." Both Blaine and Rachel look disappointed.

"Wait," Rachel says as Kurt lowers himself down onto the top rung of the ladder. "Do you want to come over tomorrow? We can tell you about our school. And you can meet our dads!"

After a second, Kurt says, "Okay."

Then he lowers himself down further and leaves them in the treehouse, heading quickly towards the gate to their backyard and Burt's house and his blessedly empty room.

* * *

That afternoon, Burt takes him to the mall.

"So...good time at the Berrys'?" Burt asks as he tries to navigate the parking garage. Kurt's confused for a minute until he realizes that must be Rachel and Blaine's last name.

"Yeah," he said. "It was okay. They want me to go over again tomorrow."

"That's good," Burt says. "They're nice kids. It'll be good to start off at school with some friends. New schools are hard."

Kurt stares out the window and doesn't tell Burt that new schools actually aren't that hard. Not anymore. They got easier when he figured out that there wasn't any point trying to make friends, because he wouldn't be at any school very long anyway. All he had to do was keep his head down to avoid the bullies and wait it out.

"We should get you some school clothes," Burt says. "We can't get too much, but we'll at least find you some stuff that fits, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt says, pulling his too-big hoodie tighter around himself.

* * *

At his last school, a couple other kids from his home had been in the same grade as him. They weren't really *friends*, but they all sat together at lunch and paired up in classes when necessary. There was safety in numbers - as long as they all knew they weren't *really* friends.

But here, he realizes as he walks into his first class - pre-algebra - he realizes that he doesn't have anybody.

Anybody except Blaine, who's sitting in the first row, whose face lights up when he sees Kurt and waves him over.

"Here, sit here," he says, moving his backpack over to make more room at the other side of the two-person desk. "It's so cool you're in this class. We can study together."

"I'm not very good at math," Kurt admits quietly, sitting down, but scooting his chair away from Blaine.

"I'll help you get caught up," Blaine promises. "I like your shoes."

Kurt glances down at the shiny lace-up oxfords Burt had bought him. He'd never gotten to pick out so many of his own clothes before.

"I like your bowtie," he says, looking away.

* * *

Neither Blaine nor Rachel are in his English class. He sits in the back and keeps quiet, even when he knows the answer and nobody else does.

He sees them both at lunch, though, and they both wave him over to a table where they're sitting together.

"Kurt!" Rachel says. "I'm so glad you're here. Blaine said you have art with us next period, which is great. Nobody here understands the importance of art in public schools. Although I wish we had a music program. Mostly we just draw. Do you like to sing?"

"I like to draw," Kurt says. "I don't really sing. It makes too much noise."

"I think that's the point," Blaine says with a small smile.

"Hey!"

The greeting is sharp and loud. For a split-second, Kurt thinks the boy that has approached their table is a friend of Blaine and Rachel's, but their shoulders tense just as much as Kurt's, and the smile Rachel gives the the boy when she turns to him is fake and ironic.

"Hello, Stephen," she says.

"If it isn't the fairy twins," the boy says mock-pleasantly. "Or is it triplets now?"

He locks eyes with Kurt, who just stays still and wills himself to breathe.

"Leave him alone." Blaine's voice is quiet, controlled, but Stephen stops to glare at him anyway before speaking again.

"Maybe I should," he says. "He could be dangerous." He turns back to Kurt, looking pleased at the attention he's gathered from neighboring tables. "I mean, you do know about him, right? You know why he came here?"

Kurt stays silent. He wants to speak, to shout even. He wants to run. But he can't, and he can't bring himself to look at Rachel and Blaine.

"I mean, we've all heard about him. And his mom."

"Stop it," Rachel says. "You don't know anything about him."

"I know more than you," Stephen says. "You wouldn't be defending him if you knew. Psycho mom, psycho kid."

"Shut up." It's a whisper, soft enough that Kurt doesn't think Stephen even heard him.

"Only difference is that he hasn't gotten locked up yet."

"Shut up!" It's louder, and Stephen actually notices. Blaine and Rachel, who have been looking at Stephen, look back to Kurt with those identically wide eyes.

But before he can respond, before any of them can, Kurt's up, pushing through the gathered crowd and running.

* * *

He knows they'll look in the bathrooms. They'll think he won't think of that, though. So instead, he finds the stairwell, and he climbs until he finds a roof. They never think to look on the roof.

Unfortunately, there's already somebody up there, sitting near the edge, smoking what actually looks to be a cigar.

Kurt turns to go, but she's already seen him - her beautiful face turned toward him, eyes narrowing under heavy mascara.

"Which one are you running from?"

"I'm not," Kurt says, his throat dry. "I'm not running."

"Right. You came up here to smoke." She tilts her head. "Or maybe to jump. You kind of look the type. But you should know that two stories isn't nearly enough to kill you, you'll just get yourself too paralyzed to try again."

"I'm not here to jump," Kurt says, now indignant. "I was just-"

"Stevie, right?" the girls says, looking amused. "He's been talking shit about you all morning. All about your mother."

Kurt feels really awkward standing, but only feels slightly less awkward when he sits down next to the girl. "You call him Stevie?"

"You can call him that if you want to piss him off," the girl explains. "And you're hot enough that he can't do anything about it." She smirks. "Santana."

Kurt wrinkles his brow at her, confused, until he realizes that she's introducing herself.

"Kurt."

"I know."

"Right," Kurt says, looking away, down at the courtyard, the kids milling around looking like ants from up here.

"Just for the record, I know it's all bullshit. What he's saying."

Kurt stares at her. Nobody's ever believed him, let alone believed him without even asking if it's true. "How do you know?"

"You're not nearly cool enough to have the killer gene in your family. You want my advice though?" Santana says. Kurt doesn't, but she continues before he can say so. "If you want to get left alone here, I'd drop the wonder twins, deny nothing, and play up the dangerous angle." She ignores his silence, standing, dropping her cigar and stomping down on it. "See you later. I mean, I won't talk to you, but I'll see you. Good luck."

"...Thanks," Kurt says as she opens the door back into the stairwell. He doesn't even know what he's thanking her for.

* * *

He makes himself go to art class. Missing a class on the first day isn't what he needs right now.

When he gets there, he sees stools set all along a classroom-wide table. At the very end, Blaine and Rachel sit, a backpack placed on the stool next to Blaine.

"Over here," Rachel calls, and Kurt slowly approaches them. "We saved you a seat."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Sorry about Stephen," Blaine says, giving him a half-smile, half-grimace. "He might have left you alone if you weren't with us."

"I don't think he would," Kurt says, sitting down and hugging his arms around himself, a habit he's prone to reverting to when he can't physically get away from someone.

"Well, still, ignore him," Rachel says, rolling her eyes. "Nothing he says is true. He's been making incest jokes for years."

"Which don't really mesh with the gay jokes," Blaine says thoughtfully.

"I-" Honestly, Kurt is a little weirded out by how frankly they talk about it all, but he's really not in a position to find anybody else weird. "What are we doing today?"

"We don't really get assignments," Rachel says, shrugging. "The art teacher got fired so now the baseball coach just kind of watches us."

"Oh."

"There's paper over there, though," Blaine says, pointing. "And pencils and stuff. In case we actually want to draw."

Kurt gets up, then pauses and looks back at Blaine. "Thank you."

"For what?" Blaine asks.

"For not caring if it's true," Kurt says, then walks away, dodging paper airplanes as he tries to get to the stack of printer paper.

* * *

When he gets home that afternoon, having avoided any incidents on the bus, he goes straight up to his room. Burt had promised to be home not long after school ended - he had to close up his tire shop.

He goes upstairs, looks at the blank walls of his room - Burt had let him pick out a comforter, and some things for his desk, but Kurt hadn't wanted any of the posters they'd come across.

Then he opens his still-packed suitcase and finds the small cigar box he's had for years, opens it, and takes out one postcard, just one.

And he goes into his backpack for the sketch he'd done earlier that day - they hadn't had to hand anything in, so he'd placed it, careful not to bend it, into one of his textbooks and took it home with him.

He tapes both up, right above his desk.

* * *

For dinner, Burt makes spaghetti and salad - the noodles are overcooked and there's too much dressing on the salad, but Kurt can tell he tried.

After, Burt asks, "Are you going over to the Berrys'?"

"Yeah, I think so," Kurt says, scraping patterns with his fork into the leftover sauce on his plate.

"Okay," Burt says, and looks at him over the table for a minute before speaking again. "Look, I want you to be with your friends, but I want you to be home when it gets dark, okay? And make sure to tell me when you're going to out, especially later."

"I don't like being out at night," Kurt says, stomach twisting.

"I just, the social worker told me some things about your last-"

"I'm not going to sneak out," Kurt says firmly. He tries not to be too rude - - it's actually nice here, and not getting sent back for a little longer wouldn't be too bad.

"All right," Burt says, and doesn't push any harder.

* * *

When Kurt knocks on the door, he hasn't thought of the possibility that neither Blaine nor Rachel would answer. Instead, it's answered by a tall man with a nose that bears a striking resemblance to Rachel's and a wide smile that bears a striking resemblance to Blaine's.

"You must be Kurt!" he says, an enthusiastic greeting that bears a striking resemblance to both of them. "I'm Leroy. Come in. Blaine and Rachel are in the basement."

Kurt's brow wrinkles - he can't imagine why a basement is somewhere kids would want to hang out.

But when they descend the stairs, Kurt sees that it's not really a basement at all - more like a miniature theater, with a full stage and sound system and two kind of eerie paintings of Rachel and Blaine hanging side-by-side on the wall.

And Blaine and Rachel are singing - a song Kurt's never heard before, something about being sixteen - and dancing around each other, managing to carry out the motions of laughing without letting it affect their voices.

When they stop, Leroy claps loudly, as does another man that Kurt just now notices sitting in the corner.

"Wonderful," the other man says, then notices Kurt. "This must be Kurt! I'm Hiram."

"Hi," Kurt says faintly. He's still not used to the two dads idea, or even just the level of enthusiasm in this family that seems to grow exponentially whenever another member shows up. "Um. That was good. What was that?"

Rachel stares at him, alarmed. "Just an iconic song from one of the best musicals of all time," she says, and it should sound condescending but it's more just amusing to watch her utter confusion at Kurt's ignorance.

"Sound of Music," Blaine supplies, hopping down from the stage and setting down his sparkly microphone.

"I've...I've never seen that," Kurt admits. He hasn't seen many movies he's actually enjoyed, really. Usually when he does get to see movies, the older kids get to pick, and it's either a stupid teen comedy with a sex-laden plot or a loud action movie that also manages to be sex-laden.

Rachel's expression goes from horrified to excited. "That's what we'll do tonight!" she says. "Sound of Music sing-along!"

"I don't really know how to sing," Kurt says, and Rachel just smiles more.

"We'll show you," she promises. "And Blaine and I will cover everything, promise."

"And there's a character named Kurt," Blaine says, eyes also widening with excitement. "You'll love it."

* * *

And that's how Kurt finds himself wedged between Hiram and Blaine on one side and Leroy and Rachel on the other side, watching a movie with a lot of cheerful singing considering how much of it is about Nazis.

After a few songs, Rachel's nudging finally convinces him to sing along with them, quietly, then louder, concentrating on the words bouncing across the screen. It isn't until the song ends that he realizes that Blaine and Rachel stopped singing with him at some point. And then all four of them are clapping.

"You're great," Blaine says, bumping their shoulders together. "That was amazing."

"Really?" Kurt asks, flushing.

"Really," Blaine confirms, smiling.

* * *

That night, Kurt burrows all the way under his comforter, holds the scarf he's procured from his pillowcase to his cheek, and dreams.

 _There's shouting - loud, sharp. It's dark inside the closet, just small hints of light peeking through the slats on the door, but he shuts his eyes tightly anyway, as if it'll make his hands over his ears more effective._

 _More shouting, two voices now, getting closer to the closet, and Kurt curls up smaller on the floor._

 _His fingernails dig into his scalp as he presses his hands even tighter to his head._

 _He can still hear the shouting like this, but he can't understand what they're saying, so he just keeps his eyes closed and waits and breathes._

 _Then his eyes fly open again at the loud, sudden crack of a gunshot._

* * *

"Kurt!"

Kurt doesn't know where he is, just that his eyes are open and it's dark and there's a man looming over him, a hand on his arm, so all he can do is jerk away and scramble to the other side of the bed.

"Kurt." It takes a second, but then he remembers, and he makes out in the darkness Burt standing by his bed, brow wrinkled in worry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, you were just yelling, and I though something was wrong-"

"I'm okay," Kurt says faintly, willing his heart to stop pounding so fast and hard that Burt can probably just hear it and know he's lying. "Just - bad dream. I'm okay."

Burt watches him for a minute, then relaxes. "You wanna talk about it?"

Kurt shakes his head, and Burt rubs his own forehead.

"You gonna be able to get back to sleep?"

Kurt thinks about lying again. He knows the answer, that after those dreams he can't go back to sleep, he has to just lie in bed and wait for the day to start.

"Maybe I could make you something?" Burt offers. "I dunno. Hot chocolate?"

The words come out before Kurt can censor them. "When I was little my mom made me warm milk."

"Warm milk." Burt considers this. "Okay. I can probably do that."

* * *

It turns out Burt can't do that.

The first cup is practically scorched, and when he tries it Kurt makes a face at the bitter taste.

So they try again, this time with Kurt trying to help with hazy memories he has of his mother making it. And they manage to make a cup that tastes okay but is barely above room temperature.

"This should be way easier," Burt sighs, taking the carton out of the fridge again. "Geez, it's just milk warmed up, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think so," Kurt says, and they try again, this time giving up on getting it done in the microwave and using a saucepan.

It comes out okay. Not as good as his mom's, but it's actually warm, so Kurt accepts the cup and sits down carefully on the living room couch, hugging his legs to his chest with his free arm.

Burt sighs, looking kind of relieved, and sinks down into his regular armchair.

"Still don't want to talk about it?" he asks. Kurt shakes his head, looking around until his eyes settle on the photo on the side table next to him, one of the many photos of the same red-haired woman he's seen throughout the house.

"Who's that?" he asks, and Burt follows his gaze to find what he's looking at.

"Oh. That's Lizzy." Burt sighs and reclines further into his chair. "She was my wife." He laughs. "She would know how to do all this stuff. She'd laugh at me for having so much trouble with it, I think."

"What happened to her?"

Burt continues to look at the photo. "She died," he finally says. "A few years ago."

His eyes have gone kind of far away so Kurt just looks at the photo again, locking eyes with the frozen, grinning woman staring back at him. "You guys never had any kids?"

"No," Burt says, smiling sadly. "We got married right out of high school. After a while, we decided to try. Lizzy always wanted a big family. She loved kids. But, uh, after a few years, it just wasn't happening."

"Oh."

"Then Lizzy decided that it was a sign from the universe. She liked that, thinking the universe was always sending her signs. She said it was a sign that we weren't supposed to bring a kid into the world, we were supposed to help kids that were already here, kids who needed us."

"Kids like me?" The question is quiet, but Burt hears it, and he nods.

"Pretty much," he says. "So we started looking into this whole thing, and then...then she got sick. And then she was just gone."

It's quiet for a long time before Kurt speaks again.

"But you brought me here anyway."

"Yeah," Burt says, looking away from the photo and back at Kurt. "Uh, for a long time I couldn't really do anything. Hell, I didn't even really know how to feed myself. Then I just realized that, just because she was gone, she wouldn't want me to give up. She'd want me to do all the things we promised we would, even if she couldn't be here for them."

Kurt closes his eyes again. "Do you think she would've been a good mom?"

"Oh, yeah," Burt says immediately. "The best."

"My mom's coming back for me," Kurt says, eyes trained on Burt's face, watching for a reaction. "She promised. But...I guess I like it here. For now. Until she does."

Burt cracks another small smile. "I'm glad."

He reaches out like he's going to clap Kurt on the shoulder, but seems to change his mind, and ends up just finding Kurt's hand and squeezing, just once, in his own.

* * *

Blaine comes over to Burt's house for the first time one weekend when Rachel has a big ballet competition in Columbus.

Kurt hesitates when they reach the doorway to his bedroom, then says, decisively, "You can come in."

With a wide smile, Blaine follows him inside and turns in a circle, taking in the room.

It's becoming progressively less empty and bare - almost every day Kurt comes home from school with a carefully - preserved sketch from art class and puts it up with the others above his desk, and he has clothes hanging up in the closet, and homework laid out neatly on his desk.

"These are all really great," he says, and Kurt feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn't think they're exactly great works, mostly just quick drawings of things and people he sees around the art room and gets down on paper.

There's one of Blaine himself, bent over a textbook, staring intently because he'd totally forgotten about his biology test that afternoon and had only that period to cram. Kurt flushes when he sees Blaine studying it.

"Rachel would get really mad if she knew you didn't have one of her, too, you know," he says lightly, and Kurt laughs, grateful for the distraction.

"I'll do one," he promises, though he's not sure how he'll get an extended period of Rachel sitting still and not talking.

"What's this?"

Blaine's fingers brush up against the postcard, still prominently hung up among the pictures. Kurt fights the urge to reach out and pull his hand away, because he knows, logically, that Blaine isn't planning on stealing it from him.

"It's from my mom." Blaine's hand falls, and he looks back at Kurt, who avoids his eye contact and sits down on his bed. "She sent it to me. Right after she - she went away."

"Do you see her a lot?" Blaine asks, pushing himself up on the bed to sit next to Kurt.

"No." Kurt still doesn't look at Blaine, but he can feel his gaze anyway. "But she's going to come get me. As soon as she can. As soon as they - as soon as she can."

"What about your dad?"

Kurt looks back at him, not sure if he should be upset at all the questions, but Blaine isn't looking at him nosily, or even pityingly. He's just...looking at him.

"He sends me cards for my birthday," Kurt says after a minute. "And Christmas. I mean, he used to. I think when I started moving around he just didn't know where to send them anymore."

"That's nice, though," Blaine says. "That he did. While he could."

"Yeah," Kurt says, swallowing around a lump in his throat and looks around, desperate for an idea to change the subject.

"I like your room," Blaine says suddenly, like he can read Kurt's mind.

"It's nice having my own," Kurt says as way of agreement.

"I shared a room with Rachel," Blaine says. "A long time ago, but it's probably good they separated us when they did. Even though dad had to clear out the home gym. I think he was kind of tired of pretending he used it."

Kurt laughs at that, and lets himself fall back onto his fluffy comforter.

"At my last house, I shared with five other boys," he says, wrinkling his nose.

"Like at Hogwarts?" Kurt looks over at Blaine and raises an eyebrow. "From, you know. Harry Potter."

Kurt just keeps staring because he's heard vaguely of Harry Potter but he's pretty sure he has no idea what Blaine is talking about.

"I never read it," he admits.

"I'll show you," Blaine promises.

"Kids!" Burt calls up the stairs. "Do you want dinner? We have...hot dogs, I guess?"

Kurt closes his eyes and sighs. It's the third time this week they've had hot dogs.

"You should just come over for dinner every night," Blaine says, chuckling. "Or at least let my dads teach Mr. Hummel to cook. They've been wanting to for years, they're really determined to save him from becoming a hopeless bachelor."

"Pretty sure it's too late for that," Kurt mumbles, and Blaine laughs again.

* * *

Kurt's not sure exactly how it happened, but about a week after he arrived, people started ignoring Stephen's attempts to call attention to rumors about Kurt's mom. Apparently, for some reason, a lot of people started calling bullshit on it.

It doesn't stop him and his friends from pushing at him, especially since he never let up on Rachel and Blaine at all.

Still, it's kind of amusing watching him try to come up with new names for their tiny group. He's been stuck on the twin thing for a long time now, and he's having to adjust.

"He knows that being the Three Musketeers isn't actually a bad thing, right?" Blaine says quietly as Stephen walks away one day with a smug grin. "Like, they're adventurers. They're awesome."

"He could do a lot better," Kurt agrees. Rachel looks thoughtful.

"Maybe he meant the candy bar," she suggests.

"That's even better," Blaine says, rolling his eyes.

* * *

Kurt's getting better at staying over at the Berrys' - they're right next door, which helps, and they all get to spread out sleeping bags on the basement floor and watch movies from the long list Rachel has made of musicals Kurt hasn't seen, and Hiram and Leroy let him help with dinner and try to learn how to make food with less than 150% daily recommended sodium intake.

One night, he wakes up suddenly with the DVD menu to My Fair Lady playing indefinitely on the TV screen, and he sees in the faint light that Blaine's sleeping bag is empty.

He gets up gingerly, trying to avoid waking Rachel, and climbs the stairs - Blaine has a habit of eating half the leftovers from dinner as a midnight snack, and Kurt's pretty sure he's not going to be able to fall back asleep anyway - so he looks in the kitchen first.

He isn't there, and Kurt is just turning to look in the living room when he catches sight of the treehouse through the window, lights flickering inside.

When he reaches the back door, he hesitates. It really is the middle of the night, and it's pitch black out.

But when he opens the door, he just fixes his eyes on the light in the tree, where he knows Blaine is, and speedwalks across the yard until he feels the wood of the ladder beneath his fingers.

Blaine doesn't look up when Kurt's head pokes through the entrance, not until Kurt whispers, "Blaine."

Blaine's head shoots up, his eyes wide.

"Kurt," he says, relaxing after a second. "Why are you up?"

Kurt laughs. "Why are you out here in the treehouse?"

"Couldn't sleep," Blaine says, shrugging and folding down the page corner of the book he's holding. Kurt climbs into the house, careful of the lantern in the center of the tiny room. "You didn't have to come out here. If you didn't want to, I mean."

"I'm okay." Kurt looks away, down at the dark yard, for what feels like a long time, then looks back to Blaine, suddenly speaking before he consciously decides to. "Um, at my old place, the guys I was in a room with, they didn't - like me. They thought I was-" He cuts himself off, and amends, "They didn't like having me in the room. So sometimes they'd, like, push me out into the hallway at night, and lock me out, and I'd get in trouble because we weren't supposed to be out of our rooms at night. So I started just hiding in the bathroom, and then when it was morning I was good at making it look like I came out of the room at the same time as all of them." Blaine watches him with wide eyes, bright in the faint light of the lantern, but he doesn't say anything, so Kurt swallows and continues. "And they got sick of me not getting in trouble, I guess, so one night they pushed me outside into the backyard and locked me out there, and it was really cold and dark but I didn't know what to do so I just...sat there until the sun came up. And our...our parents - they found me and they thought I had snuck out and tried to run away or something, then I got scared so I came back. And that's why they sent me back. And I came here. And nobody believes me."

Blaine is quiet longer, and when Kurt also stays silent, he says, quietly, "I believe you."

"I wouldn't have run away," Kurt says, blinking rapidly as he just spills all the words that nobody else has ever been willing to listen to. "There were worse places. I was...okay there."

"Are you okay here?"

"Yeah," Kurt says, after just a moment's hesitation. "I'm better here. But Burt could still make me leave, if he wants to. If I do something wrong. And I could go somewhere worse."

"I don't think he would," Blaine says, inching his hand over to brush against Kurt's. Kurt closes his eyes but doesn't pull away.

"What if there was something wrong with me? And he found out?" Kurt asks. The questions are in a whisper, so soft Blaine only hears it because of the silence of the night surrounding them.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Blaine says, and his eyebrows wrinkle like they do when he's really worried, an unasked question plain on his face.

But Kurt is suddenly exhausted, too exhausted to answer, to continue the conversation at all. He glances down, and smiles slightly when he catches sight of the book on the floor between them.

"So I guess sharing rooms at Hogwarts was more fun?" he asks, an attempt at lightness.

"Most of the time," Blaine agrees. "I mean, not always. Sometimes there were rats. And mass murderers. Well, alleged mass murderers." He catches Kurt's expression and laughs. "You should just read it already."

"Will you read it to me?"

Blaine's smile is one of victory, and he nods, flipping back to the first page, losing his place in the book but not seeming to care.

"Chapter one," he starts, and Kurt closes his eyes and listens. "The Boy Who Lived."

* * *

Kurt awakens to the next morning to the disembodied face of Leroy Berry three inches from his own.

He's pretty sure his own loud cry startles Leroy just as much his appearance did Kurt, if the way he almost falls off the ladder is any indication.

"I found them!" he calls back when he's regained his balance. "Come on, Blaine, you promised you'd stop falling asleep out here. One day you're going to just roll through the doorway and break your neck, you know."

"Sorry," Blaine says, yawning, not looking particularly startled at all. "You've been saying that since I was, like, five, though. I think I'm too big to fall out now."

"You're never too big to break your neck," Leroy points out grimly, then is suddenly smiling again when he looks back at Kurt. "Come on, Kurt, we're making crepes."

* * *

It's not until several weeks later, when he and Hiram are alone in the kitchen together, working on a surprise all-vegan dinner to celebrate Rachel's appointment as head soloist of her tap class, that he manages to bring it up again.

"I think-" he says, and Hiram pauses in his stirring the dairy-free cheesecake filling. "I think there's something wrong with me."

Hiram sets the bowl down on the counter. "There's nothing wrong with you, Kurt."

"You don't even know-" But one look at Hiram's knowing half smile tells Kurt that he does know. "How do you know?" he asks anxiously. Is that an adult thing? Or is it that obvious? Does Burt-

He tries to stop the train of thought before it can go further, and fails.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Hiram repeats, sounding eerily like his son in his firmness.

"What if people think there is?"

"Forget people," Hiram says, shrugging and picking up the bowl again. Kurt fights the urge to scowl and roll his eyes, and Hiram adds, "Okay, I know it's not that easy. But me, Rachel, Blaine-we'd all know there's nothing wrong with you. And the world can be...rough. But you'll always have that."

"What if Burt thinks there's something wrong with me?" Kurt asks in a rush. "What if..."

"I've lived next to that man a long time," Hiram says slowly, thoughtfully. "And I haven't seen him love anything as much as he loves you for a long time now. I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the world you could do to change that for him."

Burt's never told Kurt he loved him. But it's just then that Kurt realizes he's never said it either.

And maybe, after all this time, he's learned to just...wait. Wait for Kurt to approach him first.

* * *

When he gets home, he finds Burt unpacking groceries.

"Hey, bud," he says. "I know you wanted to try that souffle thing tonight, I'm pretty sure I got everything on the list. And hopefully the right...what are they called?'

"Ramekins," Kurt says.

"Ramekins," Burt repeats with an amused smile.

"Um," Kurt says suddenly, apparently sounding urgent enough to make Burt look up from unpacking the bags. "I," he starts, and immediately chickens out, and settles for "I'm happy. That I'm here, with you. I like it here."

The slow smile on Burt's face grows into one of the biggest he's seen since they met.

"I'm happy, too," he says, somewhat awkwardly, and reaches out as if to clap his hand on Kurt's shoulder like he does sometimes, but seems to change his mind at the last second and guides him into an - also somewhat awkward - hug. Kurt just closes his eyes and lets him, breathing in the now familiar and somehow now comforting scent of motor oil that seems to always come from somewhere on Burt's person.

* * *

For Blaine and Rachel's birthday, they have a joint party, which is really just another night of Kurt spending the night over at their house but with way too much cake and punch, and somehow even more karaoke.

Kurt doesn't really have much money - Burt still buys him lots of things his never owned before, and keeps them in fresh ingredients, but there isn't a lot of disposable income after that, and Kurt can only earn so much extra with his attempts to mow the lawn and organize the garage.

But when Blaine opens his envelope, and pulls out his present - they still haven't finished the first Harry Potter, it goes slower when they take turns reading out loud, but Kurt still thinks he managed to make the drawing of Blaine grinning at him from his position on a broomsticks, Gryffindor scarf flying behind him, accurate and detailed enough, and Blaine's face breaks into a grin even wider than the one in the picture.

"It's not a lot, I mean, I tried really hard on it, but-" Kurt starts quickly.

But he's cut off by Blaine throwing his arms around him, and he just manages not to shiver when he whispers, "I love it."

Kurt thinks it's pretty funny that with any other girl he knows - not that he knows may other girls, but still - would take serious offense as being drawn as a bright green witch, but she just stares at it and the giant clock in the background, just like the one in the bootleg of the live show her dads showed them, then laughs delightedly.

"I'm Elphaba," she says, happily. "Blaine! I'm Elphaba."

Then she hugs him too, and it doesn't make him shiver, but he still revels in her arms practically crushing his torso. He's pretty sure he's been hugged more in the time since he moved into Burt's house than in all the rest of his life put together.

* * *

It's not too long before it's Kurt's birthday, too, and he's receiving new cookbooks from the Berrys and a blank sketchbook and new pencils - the really good ones, that come in a bunch of different levels of hardness - from Burt, and a wrapped package from Blaine that he's not supposed to open until later.

Burt, apparently, has this weird thing about Kurt not having to bake his own birthday cake, so he brings home cupcakes from that place Kurt loves. Rachel, like always, refuses to share any of hers, and Blaine and Kurt just roll their eyes and give each other half of their own so they both have half a chocolate and half a vanilla.

They can't really fit thirteen candles on a few cupcakes, but they get those number candles so they only have to fit one on each of two of the cupcakes.

When Kurt goes to blow out the candles, he looks around, at Blaine and Rachel and Burt and he closes his eyes and he thinks, _I wish I could stay here forever_.

And he blows the candles out.

* * *

Later, when they're all somehow sick of cake and Kurt's up in his bedroom, carefully organizing his desk drawer to accommodate his new art supplies, Blaine appears at his door.

"Hey," he says, waiting for Kurt to respond before he enters. He's good at that, knowing that Kurt doesn't like people just appearing in his space.

"Hey," Kurt says back, and looks down at the still-wrapped package he's set on his desk, smiles. "Do I get to open it now?"

"Oh, yeah," Blaine says, running a hand through his hair, looking away. "Um, it's not that much, I just...thought you'd like it."

Kurt gingerly unties the ribbon - he hates ripping off wrapping paper, it just seems wrong somehow - and peels off the tape, and the paper falls away to reveal a picture frame, sort of plain, but Kurt's eyes are on the picture within it. He remembers the moment, even though he has no idea who took the picture, doesn't remember a camera at all, but he'd been admittedly pretty distracted.

Burt had taken them to the lake one morning, and they'd stopped at an ice cream cart - Rachel had been stuck with sorbet, a fact that made Blaine laugh obnoxiously before finishing his cone in about thirty seconds. They're sitting on a bench, Blaine's cone gone, trying to grab a lick off Kurt's barely eaten vanilla, while Kurt glares at him and tries to fight him off, half-scandalized, half-amused, and Rachel just laughs at both of them, and they're all just...together.

"Thank you," Kurt whispers, blinking rapidly, as he's crushed into another hug - for being so tiny, Blaine and Rachel are both surprisingly strong.

He has a lot of pictures of them all up with his drawings now - snapshots of Rachel and Blaine having a sing-off, of Kurt trying to help Rachel with her first foray into actual, grown-up makeup, a strip from when all three of them had somehow squished into the photo booth at the mall, too distracted with squabbling over room to actually smile. But he places the frame on his nightstand, where he can see it every night, resolving to keep it forever, so he can hold on to this as long as he can.

* * *

The end of the school year comes quickly. Kurt isn't nervous about the finals, Blaine has him all caught up in algebra and he's actually doing well in the other classes as long as the assignments don't involve talking too much.

And he just can't stop thinking about how soon, so soon, he'll have a break from all the bullying and the school nights and the people he's too afraid to even talk around, and he'll be able to just _be_.

* * *

It's a few days into summer when he's cooking dinner, and Burt is chopping the vegetables, because he always tries to help when he actually can, and suddenly Burt speaks.

"So," he says, and his voice already sounds so rehearsed so Kurt puts the pan he's been working with down, but doesn't turn. "You've been here awhile."

A lump rises in Kurt's throat. "Yeah," he says in a small voice.

"And..." Burt sighs. "God, I am not good at this, but...I know you love your mom." He must see Kurt's shoulders tense up because he quickly adds, "And I know you don't like talking about her, okay, but you know that she's not getting out for a while. She's just...not here right now. And right now, you should have a life, and I, you know, I hope you're getting that here." There's another long silence, but Kurt just stares down at the counter, not responding, so Burt continues. "And I guess I was thinking that maybe you'd like to...keep it here."

Kurt blinks, and his heart tightens, and he honestly doesn't know what emotion is behind it.

He knows, he's always known, that it's so much harder for teenagers to be adopted. He's seen it in action. And he's known for years that if he couldn't find someone who'd want him for good while he was still a cute little kid who wasn't quite as awkward and jaded, he was almost certain to spend the years all the way up until eighteen being shuffled around.

"You want me to stay here?" he asks.

"Yeah," Burt says, and Kurt's still not looking but he can practically hear how Burt's scratching his head like he does when he's anxious. "If you want."

Kurt's eyes squeeze shut and his heart pulls in so many different directions, and all he can think is that if there's a time he should, a time he's practically obligated to, it's now.

He finally turns around, and, without preamble, because he hadn't really thought to rehearse it, says, "I'm gay." It's silent for a moment, when he can't quite reach Burt's eyes, before he adds, "If...that matters."

Another pause, then Burt makes a weird half-laughing noise.

"No, that doesn't... _matter_ , Kurt, god." Kurt just stares at him. "God," he repeats. "I know that, Kurt, you thought that would make a difference-"

He stops when he sees Kurt's face, must see that there's still worry there, and crosses the room to pull Kurt into one of his semi-awkward hugs.

Kurt just lets himself be hugged, swallows hard, and mumbles, "Love you."

Burt pauses, and reaches up to ruffle Kurt's hair, which he's done for a while now but lately it's more tiresome as Kurt's been using his allowance on more expensive hair products lately and it's really hard to get it right, and says, "Me too." There's another long silence before he says, "Is that a yes, or..."

There's just a moment's hesitation, during which Kurt decides that, if they're laying all the cards on the table here...

"I," he starts slowly. "I still have a dad. Somewhere, and I don't think I can call you-"

"Rule still stands," Burt says, and Kurt's lucky he doesn't have to go out again today because his hair is totally ruined now. "Just keep it PG."

Kurt laughs and closes his eyes and stays there, just a little while longer.

* * *

Later, he finds Blaine up in the treehouse, reading again.

They've been growing - Kurt has, at least - and it's starting to be a tight fit, and they can hardly ever stand to deal with all three of them up there at the same time now. But Blaine's pressed into a corner, eyes intent on his book, so Kurt has room to climb in.

"Hey," he says softly. He doesn't have to, it isn't even late, but the room feels so small somehow that he feels like he should whisper.

"Hey," Blaine repeats, putting down his book with a folded-down corner like always. "What's going on?"

"I," Kurt starts, carefully situating himself into the opposite corner, then starts over. "Burt wants me to stay here. With him. Like, for good."

"Really?" Blaine doesn't actually sound surprised or disbelieving, just excited, eyes wide and bright.

"Yeah," Kurt says. "And I said, you know. I would."

"God," Blaine says, shaking his head. "God, Kurt, that's so...that's awesome."

"So I guess you're stuck with me for a while," Kurt adds, and Blaine's huge smile is infectious as ever. "Um. But I...I need to tell you something. Something big. Well, something else big."

He frowns when Blaine's smile softens into that knowing smile that can be pretty infuriating sometimes because it usually means he really does know.

"God," he says, letting his head fall back against the wooden wall. "Does _everyone_ know already? Did Jason stick a post-it on my back again?"

"I'm still sure nobody but me and Rachel saw it," Blaine says. "I mean, we got it off before you even went back into the hall."

"Still."

"Maybe I just know you too well," Blaine suggests.

"Yeah. You, and Burt, and your dads," Kurt grumbles. "But...it's okay?"

And Blaine actually laughs, only stopping when he sees Kurt's indignant expression.

"You know I have two gay dads, right?"

"I know," Kurt says. "I just... You know. It might be different."

Blaine stretches out his leg to bump his foot against Kurt's.

"Nothing's different," he says.

* * *

 **I'm pretty sure this is going to have 3 parts, but this one took a while and it might be a while before the next part. I hope you liked it so far and stick around anyway.**


	2. Chapter 2

Sophomore year of high school finds the three of them in the school's failing glee club, somehow along with several of the football players who tormented them all last year and three Cheerios, including Santana Lopez, who up until now hasn't talked to Kurt at all since their meeting his first day of school.

Kurt and Rachel don't usually fight. They - to borrow a word from Blaine that leaves both of them indignant - squabble occasionally, but they don't fight.

And then suddenly there's Kurt only kind of being out to the rest of the school and boys and solos.

Mostly solos.

At least at the moment, because Kurt knows that he deserves to sing Defying Gravity and he knows Blaine knows it too.

* * *

"Can we maybe take ten seconds from talking about this?" Blaine asks, exasperated, not looking up from his book as Kurt paces around his room.

"You know what she said today? She said she should get the solo because she knew the song first, and I owed her for showing it to me. I'm serious, she said that after you left."

"I left because you guys wouldn't stop talking about it, you know," Blaine points out mildly.

"And you know Finn's going to vote for her, it doesn't even matter how we sound, he's going to vote for her just because she has boobs and I don't. They're not even that big!"

"Please stop talking about my sister's boobs," Blaine sighs, finally putting down the book.

"Blaine, I need you to vote for me. She already has Finn in her corner. It'll just even us out, and you know I'll do it better."

"Why don't you let me actually watch the diva-off before I know who'll do it better?" Blaine snaps, actually looking annoyed now. "You guys are friends. We're all friends, why does this have to be such a big thing?"

"Because Finn-"

"Oh, right," Blaine interrupts, looking down at his book again even though Kurt can tell he's not really reading. "Of course if Finn is involved it's a big deal."

"When did this become about Finn? That's not the point!"

"Right around when you started complaining about him liking Rachel's boobs," Blaine says, scowling down at the pages of his book. "Actually, no, right around when you decided that he was this total hero for not throwing you in dumpsters for like a week now."

Kurt flushes. "He's nice to me. Nicer than a lot of other people."

"Nicer than your best friends?" Blaine says, putting down the book again. "Who, you know, haven't ever thrown pee balloons at you?"

"That's not what I meant!" Kurt's anger at Rachel is quickly morphing into anger at Blaine, more quickly than he can stop it. "What, am I not allowed to have friends besides you? You're friends with Artie. You're going bumper bowling with him and Tina this weekend and you don't see me getting mad about it."

"It's different," Blaine mutters, glaring at a spot on his blank wall.

"And why aren't you lecturing Rachel about it? She's the one who keeps doing weird romantic duets with him-"

"She's different!"

Then they're both silent, and Kurt wraps his arms around himself tightly before he says, softly, not even angry anymore, "Why? Because she actually has a chance?"

Blaine closes his eyes and seems to kind of deflate. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Blaine doesn't look up, doesn't respond, so Kurt just huffs out a breath and turns and stalks back to his own house as quickly as he can.

* * *

He practically slams the door behind him when he enters the kitchen, and Burt looks up from his football game, looking kind of alarmed.

"You okay?"

"One of my best friends is mad at me for having another friend," Kurt snaps. "And the other one is mad at me for daring to think I can sing a song better than her." He kind of falls back onto the couch and grimaces. "Sorry. It's just been a long week."

"You ever think they might just be jealous?"

Kurt barks out a disbelieving half-laugh. "Which one?" he asks.

"Hell if I know," Burt sighs, turning back to his football game.

* * *

Kurt ends up blowing the note on purpose. It's still kind of hard to say but he loves Burt enough, and he definitely owes him enough, to miss out on one solo.

They vote anyway, which kind of sucks to sit through, and he loses. Mr. Shue doesn't announce the numbers but he knows it was unanimous.

Later, he's sitting in the empty choir room, plunking out notes on the piano, going all the way up to the high F because apparently he likes torturing himself, when he notices Mr. Shue's weird hat that he likes to fill with stuff for some reason is still sitting on the piano, slips of paper still gathered in the bottom.

He reaches out and tips it over, looking at all the pieces of paper, all the scrawls of "Rachel" and is about to sweep them back in when something catches his eye.

On just one of the slips of paper, in an untidy scrawl he would recognize anywhere, is written "Kurt".

* * *

That afternoon, Rachel appears on Kurt's doorstep with a plate of sugar cookies and a nervous smile.

"Hi," she says before he can say anything. "I just wanted, you know, to give you these." She thrusts them towards him. "And tell you that I'm very...regretful, about the events that transpired, I mean of course I should have the solo, but I believe some things were said..."

Kurt stares at her, and kind of wants to make her continue to struggle to apologize without actually apologizing, but as she continues to worry her lip and clutch the plate of cookies, he finds his anger slipping away.

"...and you really were an amazingly close second. And when I rehearse you can help me and we can get you up to that note in no time!"

She smiles hopefully, pushing the cookies towards him again, and Kurt grudgingly takes them.

"Thanks," he says, which is apparently enough for Rachel, because she launches herself at him, almost knocking the plate out of his hands with her tight hug.

"I missed you so much," she says happily. "And Blaine has been so mopey this week."

"Yeah?" Kurt says, trying not to look guilty.

"He won't talk to me," Rachel sighs. "I guess he's still mad at us for fighting."

"Yeah," Kurt says quietly. "I guess."

* * *

After he's spent ample time eating cookies and pretending to let Rachel teach him how to hit a high F, Kurt finds himself standing outside Blaine's bedroom door, waiting for the nerve to knock.

But Blaine must hear his thoughts or something, because a minute later the door is swinging open anyway.

"Oh," he says. "Kurt. Kurt, I-"

"That was a stupid thing to do, voting like that, you know," Kurt says, and even though he knows he's doing that thing where he babbles when he's nervous, he can't stop. "I mean, not that anybody would find out but you know how hard she would kill you if she did, she lives like ten feet from where you sleep, Blaine. And you know I made you guys swear-"

He stops when he notices that Blaine is trying not to laugh.

"It's not funny," he grumbles.

"I think I can handle Rachel," Blaine promises.

"Not if you're asleep."

Blaine shrugs. "Worth it."

Kurt just rolls his eyes and finally moves past Blaine into his room, shutting the door behind them. "I couldn't sing the song," he says. "You shouldn't vote for someone who can't even finish the song."

"You can sing it," Blaine says. "I don't know why you didn't, maybe it's some long-term plan to hustle Rachel for a solo when we get to Regionals-"

"It's not," Kurt says. "Although that's kind of genius. Mind if I use that?"

"Just a little," Blaine says, lips quirking up at the corners.

Kurt sighs. "What makes you think I can do it, then?"

Blaine shrugs again, looking away. "Would saying that you can do anything be too cheesy?"

"I..." Kurt flushes. "I'll allow it."

* * *

Later, Blaine's at his desk, studying for his chemistry test the next day, and Kurt's lying on his bed, up on his elbows and frowning down at the sheet of paper in front of him.

He doesn't have his sketchbook with him, but Blaine has this infuriating need to get an A in a class even though he could totally blow it off and get a B, so he's stuck killing time and stealing sheets of paper from Blaine's notebook to occupy it.

"Wow."

Kurt's head jerks up to see that Blaine is now sitting next to him, looking down at the paper.

"That's really good. Are you going to make that?"

It's just a rough draft of a jacket, inspired by a Marc Jacobs he'd seen in Vogue that he could absolutely never afford, but he can see it turning out well if he can find the right fabric.

Very soon after Kurt's first foray into the world of designer fashion, he'd discovered that the allowance he got really wasn't going to cut it to keep him always dressed to impress, even with the regular paycheck he now gets from working at Burt's tire shop. So he's been working on both learning to search out bargains and just buying the materials to make his own-nobody at McKinley is going to notice the lack of actual label, anyway, and it's nice that almost everything he owns is tailored to him.

"Maybe," he says noncommittedly, setting down his pencil. "Done with chemistry?"

"Just so ready for a break," Blaine explains, letting himself fall back into his bed and stare at the ceiling.

Kurt looks down at his hands, and resists the temptation to pick at a loose thread on the sleeve-he'd made this one, too, and it had taken forever.

"Blaine," he says suddenly.

"Hm?" Blaine hums, apparently too weary to form actual words.

"Why don't you like him?" He feels Blaine tense next to him, but he continues. "Like, really."

"I don't," Blaine says after a minute. "I mean, I don't not like him, I was just upset. Because of the whole diva-off thing, and it all got blown out of proportion."

"Blaine."

Kurt can practically hear that frown Blaine gets when Kurt calls him out on a lie to get out of a conversation.

"I just..." Blaine continues to stare up at the ceiling. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"None of the football players - well, the ones in glee, anyway - have hurt me in a long time," Kurt points out. "I mean, Puck is still kind of a douche, but they don't even slushy me anymore."

"That's not what I meant."

And Kurt's actually kind of annoyed at himself for forgetting that Blaine's just as good at calling Kurt out on his deflections.

"My mom used to say that we needed to get hurt sometimes," Kurt says after a minute. "That when we got hurt, we put ourselves back together stronger. And if you never got hurt, when the biggest challenge of your life came along, you wouldn't be able to live through it, so we shouldn't shield ourselves from pain."

"That doesn't mean you have to let it happen on purpose," Blaine argues, and Kurt doesn't really know how to answer, so he's silent for a minute.

"That's it?" he finally asks.

"That's what?"

"That's all? That's the only problem you have with the whole Finn thing?"

His eyes have been intent on Blaine's face even as Blaine avoids eye contact, but before Blaine answers he sits up and rolls away so Kurt can't see his face at all.

"Yeah," he says. "That's all."

* * *

Blaine was right. In the end, it hurts. It hurts like a bitch.

But Kurt supposes his mom was right too. Because he cries his tears and maybe throws a few less breakable things around his room, but he puts himself together again.

* * *

Losing Regionals hurts like a bitch too. But Kurt thinks that it's not quite as bad, because they can spend hours blaming everything on Jesse St. James and they're all kind of there to put each other back together again.

And they get to enter the summer before Junior year determined to ready themselves to totally kick ass when fall comes again.

Rachel already has the three of them scheduled for ten hours a week of rehearsal. Even Kurt is kind of terrified.

* * *

They almost never go up in the treehouse together anymore, mostly out of necessity-they just don't fit anymore, even just in pairs. Rachel and Blaine can just barely be comfortable together, and both of them are a lot shorter than Kurt.

So when Kurt climbs up to join Blaine after he sees the light on through Rachel's bedroom window (and wow, he only has to climb like two of the rungs to get up there now), Blaine looks up in surprise, but still shuffles as much as he can to make room, until they're just kind of pressed side by side with their legs bent out in front of them.

"Hey," Blaine says. "What's up?"

"Hiding," Kurt says. "I told Rachel I was going to the bathroom. She's made me watch our Regionals video and look for minor mistakes five times in the last hour. I am so sick of Journey."

"Don't say that to Mr. Shue," Blaine says seriously. "You'll never get a solo again."

Kurt laughs, bumping their shoulders together, then notices the book.

"How many times have you read that now?" he asks teasingly.

"Nearing fifty, I think," Blaine says, shrugging. "It's my favorite one."

"I think you're just nostalgic for when you were eleven."

"Yeah," Blaine laughs. "Eleven. That was a fun age, looking like I was seven and my sister being my only friend."

"If it helps, nowadays you could pass for a solid twelve," Kurt says.

Blaine rolls his eyes, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Kurt watches the flickering of that same old lantern that they'd finally thought to put in a hook for just a year before.

"Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

Kurt gives him a look. "You know you can tell me things."

"I know," Blaine says. "I just...I have to tell you something, and it's kind of big."

"Okay."

Blaine runs a hand through his hair, which is a little more of a struggle lately since he's starting gelling it like crazy, and says, "Kurt, I'm gay." There's a moment, and before Kurt has time to react, he adds, somewhat lamely, "Too. I'm gay too."

Kurt just kind of stares at him for a moment and he should be immediately reassuring Blaine but all he can think is...

"Are you sure?"

Blaine actually laughs, and Kurt flushes, about to apologize when Blaine says, "Come on, don't be that guy who thinks I'm just confused."

"I'm sorry," Kurt says quickly. "I didn't mean, I just meant that I feel like I would have, you know..."

"Known?" Blaine asks, laughing again. "Maybe I just know you better."

"I'm sorry," Kurt repeats.

"So that's the only problem?" Blaine asks, eyebrows quirking up at him. "Nothing's different?"

Kurt kind of wants to also laugh when he realizes how similar they're getting to Kurt's own attempt to come out to Blaine, besides Kurt somehow being totally blindsided.

"Nothing's different," he promises, gently kicking his own outstretched foot against Blaine's.

"You're my best friend," Blaine says quietly, and Kurt smiles.

"You're mine too," he says, turning his head and almost jumping when he sees that Blaine's face is only like three inches from his own.

And then it's getting closer.

But it takes Kurt a few seconds to actually get with the program, and Blaine's lips are only like half an inch from his own when he manages to say, "Wait, Blaine. Don't-"

He should probably say more, but it's enough, Blaine is jerking back, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry," he says, closing his eyes. "Shit. I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I..." Kurt interrupts even though he doesn't really know what to say. "I should go," he finally manages to whisper, and awkwardly shuffles out of the too-small hole, dropping down to the ground before Blaine can say anything else.

* * *

When he gets back to his own room, having practically run past Burt and his questioning expression, he just kind of stops, sinking onto his bed, biting at his own lips like that will erase what almost happened, and tries to figure out exactly what even one of the thousand things he's feeling mean.

Burt must sense that Kurt's way too drained to deal with dinner, so he gets them pizza from Kurt's favorite place downtown, and even gets the thin crust Kurt likes best.

So Kurt really has no choice but to sit at the table with him, picking at the cheese on his piece and hoping it looks like he's eating.

"What's wrong?" Burt says after a while.

"Nothing," Kurt says, illustrating his point by taking a tiny bite.

"Are you fighting with Rachel again? I though we got a break from all the solo drama."

"It's not Rachel," Kurt mumbles.

"Somebody giving a hard time again?"

"We get a break from that, too." Kurt tries to ignore the fact that he knows what Burt's working up to.

"Something happen with Blaine?"

"I'm going to go to bed," Kurt says immediately. "I'm tired. Thanks. For the pizza."

"You're welcome," Burt says, raising his eyebrows but not commenting on Kurt's sudden departure.

* * *

Later that night, Kurt is just starting his moisturizing routine when his phone buzzes.

 _I'm sorry,_ the text says. _Can we just talk about it? Can I call you? Please don't hate me right now?_

Kurt types up about ten different replies before he finally goes with draft number eight.

 _I don't hate you. I just need some time._

* * *

About twelve hours go by before Rachel comes knocking at his door.

"What happened with you and Blaine?" she demands without preamble, pushing her way into the house right after he opens the door. "He won't come out of his room. He didn't eat the sugar cookies I left outside his door. And he totally freaked out when I said I would call you to come help. What did you do to him?"

"Okay, who says I did something to him?" Kurt asks, shooting her a look as he closes the door for her. "And how exactly is this your business?"

"It's my business because you're my best friend," she says, frowning. "And he's my brother. And he's really messed up." Her eyebrows wrinkle together and she suddenly seems even more upset. "Did you...when he told you, did you actually tell him that it was a problem? Him being gay? You had a problem with that?"

"You..." Kurt blinks. "You knew?"

"Just because you told me last doesn't-"

"We are not getting into that again," Kurt snaps. "And no, god, I don't have a problem with that, seriously?"

"Then what do you have a problem with?"

And Kurt has to fall silent at that, because he's been going over and over just that in his head all night and he still can't put it to words.

"I have a problem," he finally says, voice tight, and wow, apparently he can put it to words. "With him coming out and trying to kiss me ten seconds later."

Rachel just kind of stares at him for a moment, and then she's actually smiling.

"But it's perfect," she says. "It would be so great, you guys are both gay now-"

"That's the problem," he snaps. "That's the problem, that I don't want Blaine to kiss me because we're both...gay now, like he has something to prove, okay? I want..."

He doesn't know what he wants.

"I don't want that," he says. "If he wants to experiment he should just go to that gay bar over in Lima Heights, but I guess I was just..." He sighs and sits down at the kitchen table, quickly deflating. "...closer."

"Kurt," Rachel says softly. "Kurt, I'm sure that's not what he meant. And he's really torn up right now."

"I don't want him to be, I just, I can't. I can't deal with this right now. I can't deal with him right now."

Rachel just keeps watching him, her brown eyes wide and way too similar to Blaine's.

"Okay," she finally says, in a moment of rare agreement and brevity.

"Okay?"

"Okay," Rachel repeats, reaching out and patting his hand. "I'll go try chocolate chip."

* * *

They make it one more week. One week of Rachel splitting her time three ways between Kurt, Blaine, and Finn (although, if they're being honest, Finn's getting way more than 50% of the time). One week of Kurt and Rachel rewatching old performances and giving each other pedicures and going shopping alone.

Kurt can tell she feels sorry for him because she's letting him pick out so many things for her, but whatever, he'll take any opportunity he can for that. He wonders what she's doing for Blaine.

* * *

And a week later, Kurt looks out of his bedroom window and sees that the light is on in the treehouse, and he knows Rachel is out at Breadstix with Finn, so he finally gives in and slowly makes his way between their yards.

It feels weird, though, just popping up like he normally does. He just stands at the base of the tree, staring up, then calls out, softly, "Blaine."

After just a second, Blaine's head appears, looking down at him with wide eyes. "Kurt."

"I..." Kurt says, setting his hand on the first rung in front of him. "Can we just be friends again?"

Blaine kind of looks like he wants to cry, but he's also starting to smile, so Kurt gives him a small smile back and starts to climb.

* * *

Blaine is at his locker across the hallway when Kurt confronts Jacob Ben Israel, so he's right behind Kurt as he stalks into the girls' bathroom, wiping slushy out of his eyes.

"You okay?"

Kurt laughs wryly. "I'm amazing. Welcome-back slushies are the best."

"Here." Blaine digs into his backpack for the washcloth he's learned to just keep in there, and reaches out to wipe the extra ice off Kurt's cheek like he's done a hundred times, but he only gets halfway there before he stops, looking away. "Sorry, I-"

"Thanks," Kurt says quickly, reaching out and taking the cloth from Blaine's hand himself, quick to dispel the moment, and turning to examine himself in the mirror. "At least the hat got a lot of it. My hair isn't that bad."

"Your hair is never bad," Blaine points out, lifting himself up to sit on the sinks in front of Kurt, swinging his legs.

"You know what I mean," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "I swear, if I'm late to French because of this..."

"...Madame Martine won't do anything, because she knows you could only show up for the tests and still get an A in her class?"

Kurt frowns, but doesn't argue this point.

"Well, you're going to be late for Spanish. And you need to stay on Mr. Shue's good side if you're going to get any solos at all from Finn this year."

"I'll just blame it on you," Blaine says, shrugging.

* * *

So apparently, Kurt has an "attitude".

Luckily, that's pretty much all Figgins and Mr. Shue have to say when he's in the office after his Britney outburst, so he's out pretty quickly.

Unluckily, Jacob Ben Israel is outside the office, waiting for him with a microphone and a grin.

"Kurt Hummel!" he says. "Care to comment on your psychotic episode in glee club today?"

"Go away, Israel," Kurt mutters, pushing past him.

"Should the entire school populous be worried, or are you planning on only targeting teachers?"

"Okay," a voice drawls behind Kurt. "First, as entertaining as it was, I would hardly call a well-earned bitching out a psychotic episode."

Both Kurt and Jacob turn in surprise to see Santana, arching an eyebrow at them.

"Second," she says, strolling over to Jacob, right in his face. "If it was, it was quite possibly the lamest one in history. Now, you want to see a real psychotic episode?" She grins wickedly at a terrified Jacob. "Just stick around, Jewfro, and I'll show you."

Jacob manages a small squeak before rushing off.

"Thought so," Santana mutters, then turns to leave.

"You didn't have to do that," Kurt says. and she stops.

"It was fun," she says, shrugging. "Besides, it's totally unoriginal. They've been using that rumor for what, three years now? Would it kill them to come up with something new?"

"You helped me before, too," Kurt says quietly. It's the closest either of them have come to talking about the first day they met. "Why?"

Santana just looks at him for a minute. Kurt suspects she doesn't know the answer any more than he does.

"Maybe I don't like people questioning my title as the most dangerous bitch at this school," she finally says. "Maybe your baby face awakens deeply, deeply buried motherly instincts that only appear when I ovulate. Hell if I know." She turns again. "See you in glee, Hummel. Good luck actually getting Shue to get that stick out of his ass."

* * *

After a few days without Burt mentioning anything, Kurt thinks he's probably out of the woods.

But apparently he was just waiting for a good time, or rehearsing, or something, because the next week Burt sits down with Kurt at the breakfast table, and watches him carefully.

"So," he says, and Kurt lets out a long breath.

"What?"

"I got a call from your teacher. That Shuester."

"Burt-"

"He's worried about you."

"Worried about me," Kurt says, dropping his spoon, ignoring the clanging as it hits his bowl. "I get slushies dumped on me on a regular basis, but I say one thing he doesn't like, and that worries him."

"I'm worried about you too," Burt sighs, and Kurt picks up his spoon again, needing something to occupy his hands. "The past few months, you've been...different. Have things been getting worse? With the football players?"

"No," Kurt says, poking at the last of the yogurt in his bowl.

"Is this about Blaine?"

"Why would it be about Blaine?" It comes out more sharply than intended, but Burt doesn't look angry, just sort of satisfied that he actually found the right nerve to hit.

"Just, I want you to know that if anything is happening with you two, if you want to..." he trails off. "I wouldn't have a problem with it. You know that, right?"

Kurt sighs again, stands up and grabs his bag.

"Nothing's happening with me and Blaine," he says firmly. "And I need to get to school, because I think being late would just cement my newfound attitude problem, and we don't want that."

"Kurt."

Kurt finally looks Burt in the eye and suddenly feels kind of guilty, because Burt's really not the one he's angry with. Hell, he doesn't even know who he's angry with, but it isn't him.

"I really do have to go," he says, softer. "I'll be back home after glee, okay?"

Burt frowns, but Kurt is relieved to see that he doesn't look angry either. "Okay. Have a good day, bud."

* * *

He's in French, berating Azimio, which is quickly becoming one of his favorite parts of the day, when suddenly Mr. Shue is standing in the doorway, a strange expression on his face that makes Kurt's smile fade away.

* * *

When he, Mr. Shue, and Ms. Pillsbury get to the hospital, they end up in the waiting room, where Kurt paces back and forth.

Finally a doctor appears, and Kurt's afraid to ask but he's also desperate to know. "Is he okay? Is he... Is he dead?"

Just saying the word makes him want to cry but he needs to hear the answer so he blinks and stands and listens.

The doctor takes way too long to tell him that Burt is alive.

"I need to see him," Kurt says quickly. "Let me-where is he, I need to see him."

"He hasn't regained consciousness," the doctor says, and starts spouting something, some explanation, but at this point Kurt doesn't even care about the why.

"When is he going to wake up?"

The doctor's next words are simpler, blunter, and they make Kurt's blood go cold.

"I don't know."

* * *

Burt looks...wrong, lying in the hospital bed, asleep (Not asleep, Kurt reminds himself. Comatose.) Helpless.

He can feel Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury's eyes on him, like they're just waiting for him to break down.

The monitor beeps weakly at him.

"I need a minute," he says quietly. Ms. Pillsbury starts to protest, but Kurt just shakes his head and closes his eyes and says, "Just give me a moment alone with my father."

* * *

Blaine and Rachel show up later, after school hours must have ended, but Kurt isn't sure. He doesn't notice the time.

They burst into the room, making Kurt jump and look up from Burt's hand, clutched in his own.

Rachel's already crying, and Blaine's just watching Kurt until their eyes meet.

"Kurt," Rachel says. "We're so sorry, we noticed you weren't there at lunch but we had no idea why, and you wouldn't answer your phone, and we had no idea until our dads-"

Kurt looks down at his bag where he knows his phone is, set on silent. He hadn't even thought to look at it.

"It's okay," he says softly. Before he can say anything else, Rachel's hugging him tightly, her face buried into his neck, and it isn't until she pulls away that he registers Blaine, who's found Kurt's free hand with his own, and is holding it tightly.

* * *

"Kurt, honey, you need to go home. Get some sleep."

"I want to stay here."

Ms. Pillsbury sighs, looking back at Mr. Shue, who says, "Kurt, visiting hours are about to end anyway. You can come back tomorrow."

"I don't want to come back tomorrow. I want to stay here with my father. You guys can go home."

"Visiting hours really are going to end," Ms. Pillsbury says softly. Kurt shrugs.

"What are they going to do, drag me out?"

Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury kind of just look at each other helplessly, then at Blaine and Rachel, who are still sitting on either side of Kurt.

"Kurt," Blaine says. "You do need to sleep. We can take you home."

"I don't," Kurt sniffs. "I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be...there. Without him."

"Come home with us, then," Rachel says. "You know our dads will say yes, you stay with us all the time. Kurt, we're not leaving you alone here."

Kurt looks down at Burt, feels Blaine's thumb running in circles over the back of his own hand.

"Okay."

* * *

"I can go next door and get some of your stuff," Blaine offers when they pull into the Berrys' driveway.

"Okay," Kurt agrees quietly.

"You can sleep in my room," Rachel says. "I'll make you tea?"

It's a question, but Kurt can't bring himself to answer beyond a small nod.

* * *

Rachel falls asleep first.

It's midnight when Kurt finally gives up on sleep himself.

He gets up, figuring he might as well get some water or something, but pauses when he leaves Rachel's room and sees light shining out from under Blaine's door.

His knocks are soft, hesitant, but a few seconds later the door is opening anyway.

"Kurt," Blaine says, and Kurt almost wants to laugh at how rumpled his hair is compared to how he's been wearing it lately. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep," Kurt says, hugging himself, then allows himself to be carefully led inside by Blaine's hand on his arm, and finds himself sitting on Blaine's bed, knees bent into his chest.

"Want to talk about it?" Blaine looks up at him from where he's taken a seat next to Kurt, leaving just a few inches between them.

"I can't..." Kurt blinks back his tears, because he's pretty sure if they start, they're not going to stop. "I can't lose him, Blaine. He's the only family I have."

"You have us," Blaine says, softly. "You'll always have us. You'll always have me."

"It's different," Kurt whispers. "He's my dad. He's my dad, and I never..." And it's not working anymore, the tears are falling, and he struggles to get the words out. "I never told him."

"He knew," Blaine says, bringing an arm around to pull Kurt in, letting him cry into the neck of his t-shirt. It's the closest they've been in months. "I know he did. You didn't have to tell him."

"You really think so?"

Blaine looks down at Kurt, who pulls away just enough to meet his eyes, and they're inches apart.

"Yeah," he says. "I do."

Kurt sniffs again, and Blaine, so slowly, lifts his hand up to wipe a residual tear running down Kurt's cheek.

And Kurt just leans into his touch, and whispers, "You can kiss me if you want to."

Blaine's hand stills, and he pulls it away. "Kurt."

"You can." Kurt straightens up, and catches Blaine's hand. "If you still want to. I won't stop you. I want you to."

"No, you don't."

"I do," Kurt insists.

"You only want me to because you're scared. And you feel alone, and you think it'll make you feel better," Blaine argues. "It won't."

"You don't want to?" Kurt tries and fails to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes stinging as he watches Blaine.

"I don't," Blaine says, after a long time, pulling his hand out of Kurt's. "Not like this."

Kurt should probably feel embarrassed, or angry, or...something. But when Blaine starts to push himself farther from Kurt, he just feels tired.

"Don't," he says, and Blaine hesitates, so he continues. "Please, you don't have to, you know, just...please don't leave me alone?"

He's kind of terrified Blaine will shake his head, kick him out or just leave the room himself. But he doesn't, he just sighs and nods.

"Okay," he says, and pulls Kurt into his chest again, holding him tighter as he starts to cry again.

* * *

The next evening, after the whole prayer incident at the hospital, Kurt kind of doesn't want to deal with Rachel but he really doesn't want to go home to his empty house. So he lets Blaine pick him up after visiting hours end again and doesn't protest when Blaine asks if he wants to stay over again.

It's quiet as they drive, the radio on but at a low enough volume that Kurt doesn't even know what song is playing.

"I'm sorry about Rachel," Blaine finally says. "She has good intentions."

"You know what they say about the road to Hell," Kurt says with the closest to a laugh he's managed all week.

"I think everybody's just trying to help the only ways they know how," Blaine says, turning onto their street.

When they stop, Blaine's about to open the door and get out when Kurt says, "You were right."

"About what?"

Kurt stares out the window, but it's dark enough that all he can really see his own reflection.

"Last night, you were right. I would have felt worse, and you were right. Not to, you know." He turns so he doesn't have to look at his reflection anymore, but still doesn't look at Blaine. "And I'm sorry I asked you to."

"Kurt," Blaine says, so Kurt actually looks up at him, at his eyes, so bright against the dark night. "It's okay. We're okay."

* * *

The next day, when glee club starts, Kurt stands in front of the piano, and speaks.

"I lost my mother when I was eight," he says. "And after that... I didn't have anyone. Not for a long time. I always had a place to stay. There was always somebody there to take care of me, I guess. Kind of. But I didn't have a home." He pauses, breathes, and says, "I didn't have a father. I never did."

He can feel all their eyes on him.

"I used to have these nightmares. And I remember, the first time I had a nightmare at his house, it woke him up, but he wasn't angry. He just wanted to help. I know he didn't know what to do. And in the end, he just held my hand. And I remember thinking, for the first time, that I wished I could have a father like him. And it took me a long time after that, but eventually I knew for sure that...that I did." He wipes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and says, "So this is for my dad."

And he sings.

* * *

After Burt wakes up, people filter in and out, but Kurt stays with him right up until he's pretty sure the hospital staff actually is going to drag him out.

When he leaves the room, he finds Finn, Rachel, Blaine, and Carole waiting for him.

They're all kind of crying, though Finn is making a valiant effort not to, and before Kurt can say anything they're somehow all in some sort of group hug, and somehow Kurt's in the center, and he kind of can't breathe but he really doesn't care.

* * *

Then Puck is in juvie, a (totally gay) new student is replacing him, and Mr. Shue is announcing a duet competition.

After the meeting is over, Kurt catches up to Blaine and Rachel leaving.

"...and while brother-sister duets do have their merits," Rachel is saying, "I believe this time I should sing with Finn. Maybe we can do a duet next week? We'll have to see if it fits into the lesson-"

"Rachel," Blaine says, looking amused. "I'll be fine. Go ahead and sing with Finn. You two will be great."

"Thank you for understanding," Rachel says, then notices Kurt. "Wait, you two should sing together!"

Blaine gives her a look Kurt can't really translate, but she just smiles and practically skips away.

"Um," Blaine says, running his hand through his hair. "Any chance I'll get to sing with the most talented member of glee club?"

Kurt gives him a teasing smile. "I thought Rachel was singing with Finn?" he asks, and laughs, as Blaine rolls his eyes and bumps their shoulders together.

* * *

"Teenage Dream?"

Kurt sighs. "No Katy Perry," he says for the tenth time. "Blaine, you just sang Katy Perry last week, anyway."

"Hot and Cold is totally different than Teenage Dream," Blaine argues as they get out of Kurt's car. "Also, we need to go to your house. I'm not allowed in mine for the next three hours so Rachel and Finn can discuss song choices without me spying."

"So, they need to discuss song choices for ten minutes, then make out for the rest of the time?" Kurt guesses. "It's fine, my dad's not home. So we won't bug him, and he won't be here to try to convince us to do Springsteen." He's searching for his keys when he looks back and notices Blaine smiling at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Blaine says, but his expression doesn't change. "Come on, we have to win or Rachel will never let us hear the end of it."

* * *

They go right after Mercedes and Santana, who somehow ended up singing together.

It's better than Kurt cares to admit, but he refuses to be intimidated. Not if he and Blaine are going to kill this thing.

"You ready?" Blaine asks, as they walk up to stand in front of the piano.

Kurt looks at their audience and is pleased to see that Rachel actually looks a little worried.

"Ready," he says.

And they sing.

They sing about power lines, and promises, and candles.

They sing about love, and Kurt knows they're putting on a performance and he should be focusing on the audience but when Blaine sings straight to him, managing to smile around the words, he can't look away.

* * *

As it turns out, Finn and Rachel aren't the competition they need to be worried about, because their performance is kind of horrifying.

Even Kurt is offended, and he's an atheist.

But they don't win, either, and Sam and Quinn end up with the gift certificates.

The meeting kind of falls apart then, because Santana starts crying, and Rachel starts demanding to know how she and Finn lost, and the rest of them just kind of slip out, most of them in pairs comforting each other.

"Seriously," Kurt says, as he and Blaine walk away from the choir room. "It's just Breadstix, for god's sake."

"I still think we should have won," Blaine says, smiling over at Kurt, whose heart just kind of stops for a second.

"Well, of course we should have won," Kurt agrees, rolling his eyes.

"Although I did say we should go more top 40."

"Maybe we should have just gone more blonde and heterosexual," Kurt counters.

"Tell you what," Blaine says, brushing his hand against Kurt's, so lightly that it had to be an accident. "Let me take you to Breadstix. My treat."

Kurt stops walking. "You want to take me to Breadstix?"

"Call it a thank you for singing with me," Blaine suggests. "Or a thank you for not making us do Lady Gaga."

"We both know you couldn't handle Lady Gaga," Kurt says, hoping his cheeks aren't as pink as they feel.

"Well, if it isn't Sid and Nancy." They both whirl around to see David Karofsky looming over them, a few other football players snickering behind him. Karofsky grins, gives Blaine a pointed look, and continues, "Careful, Nancy, we all know what your boyfriend's capable of."

"Wearing a different jacket every day?" Blaine suggests innocently, and Karofsky glowers.

"Just watch your back, Nancy," he says, his expression schooling into a smirk as he leads his group away from them.

Kurt just watches them go, wondering how he can get used to slushies and gay jokes and even locker slams but he can't get used to that.

"So what do you say?" Blaine asks. "Breadstix?"

It takes Kurt a minute to remember, then his blush is back. "Um, okay," he says. "Breadstix. I'd like that."

* * *

It's kind of unnerving, being at Breadstix without at least one of his girl friends with him. It's not actually a date but it's still Kurt alone with another boy at the local date place and that feels equal parts exciting and terrifying.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Blaine asks once they've given the waitress their drink orders.

"I think they're running out of m-criminals they made movies about. They might have to crack a book soon to find new ones," Kurt says, shrugging.

"Kurt."

Kurt picks at his breadstick. "What?"

"Have they been actually hurting you? Worse than usual?"

Kurt crosses his arms, which doesn't really make sense because he's wearing long sleeves and the bruises are already hidden. "It's fine. I'm pretty sure they finally came to terms with how much they suck at football and starting taking steroids, and I'm just benefiting from the side effects."

"It's not fine."

"They've been bullying all of us for years, Blaine," Kurt sighs. "Why do we have to talk about this?"

"Not like this. I'm worried about you."

Kurt almost laughs. "That's why we're here? Because you, like everyone else apparently, are worried about me?"

"No," Blaine says quickly. "No, but we're alone now, and Karofsky really seemed to get to you earlier."

"It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

He's saved from Blaine's answer by the arrival of their waitress with their drinks and the need to order.

Once she's gone, Blaine turns serious again.

"Just because you were alone in things before doesn't mean you need to be this time," he says, reaching out and touching Kurt's hand, not holding, just a brief touch. "Just...please promise me that if it gets worse, if you can't handle it, you'll tell me. Or your dad. Anybody. You don't have to be alone."

Kurt snaps his breadstick in half, not looking at Blaine.

"Okay," he says. "I promise."

* * *

He's not sure what possesses him, a few weeks later, to confront Karofsky.

Maybe he's hit one too many times, maybe he's already having a bad day. Maybe he's just tired.

And then he's yelling.

And then Karofsky is grabbing his face and smashing their lips together.

* * *

Kurt goes home that night feeling...numb. Maybe he should be scared, or something, but he's just numb, and he barely hears his dad's greeting.

He sits in his room, swallowing repeatedly and trying desperately to get the taste out of his mouth.

* * *

Eventually, Blaine shows up. Kurt doesn't know why, maybe Burt called him or something, but at the moment Kurt doesn't care because Blaine is there.

"What happened?" Blaine asks, sinking down next to Kurt, watching him intently.

"Do you remember last year?" Kurt says slowly. "I told you about what my mom said, about how we needed to get hurt, to get us ready for when our biggest challenge came."

"Yeah," Blaine says softly. '

"What if she was wrong?" he asks. "What if there is no biggest challenge? What if, no matter how you prepare for it, things just get worse and worse until finally something comes and you aren't strong enough and you just...break?"

Blaine doesn't answer, but his arm, suddenly around Kurt, his familiar raspberry hair gel in Kurt's nose, his steady breathing, are enough.

For now.

* * *

After that night, Kurt finds himself rarely alone, seemingly always accompanied by Blaine, Rachel, or Mercedes. He pretends not to know why.

But they do have to go to class. And one day Kurt finds himself alone at his locker, and he can't find his damn English notebook, and then the hallway is empty.

Empty except for Kurt, until he spots Karofsky approaching him.

"I," he says, but he can't say anything else.

"You tell anyone about what happened?" Karofsky practically growls. "You kissing me?"

"No," Kurt says, finding his voice. "No, I didn't tell anyone."

"Good," Karofsky says, leaning in closer, and for a split second Kurt is kind of terrified he's going to kiss him again. "Because I know all that about you being dangerous is bullshit. We both know you can't hurt anyone. You definitely can't hurt me. And if you tell anyone what happened, I'm going to kill you."

Then he walks away.

And Kurt just stands by his locker, completely frozen.

* * *

Burt proposes to Carole.

Kurt can tell Finn's kind of shocked, and he's a little shocked, but mostly he's just freaking out, because he gets to plan a real wedding.

Also, his dad is in love and the New Directions get to perform.

But he gets to plan a _real wedding_ and it's just what he needs.

* * *

Apparently, though, the New Directions guys (most of them, anyway), decide that what he needs is for them to confront Karofsky in the locker room.

"What were you even thinking?" Kurt asks, trying to keep the ice over Blaine's black eye no matter how much he squirms. "Blaine, Karofsky is twice your size. I think he could literally snap you like a twig. And it's not your problem. It's none of your problems."

"It's my problem when my best friend is getting hurt," Blaine says, quietly enough that the rest of the club can't hear him. "Especially when I know you're not telling me everything."

The girls start to berate Finn for not participating. Kurt just keeps icing Blaine's eye and kind of hating himself for letting him get hurt over this.

* * *

Finn is a terrible dancer.

Maybe he's getting better at kind of jumping around when he does solos, but the boy cannot learn choreography to save his life.

"It's hopeless," Kurt murmurs to Blaine so Finn can't hear. "He can't dance. Even my dad is doing better than him."

"Okay," Blaine says, speaking louder. "How about...Finn, just watch Kurt and me, okay? We'll do it, just watch us and copy me."

Kurt flushes and opens his mouth, but Blaine's already taking his hands and leading him into a waltz.

"You're," Kurt clears his throat. "You're good at this."

"I spent my whole childhood helping Rachel practice," Blaine says, then adds, "Okay, and entering one competition with her. One. It was brother-sister."

"Did you win?" Kurt asks, because he really needs to keep himself distracted from Blaine's hand on his waist.

"What do you think?" Blaine asks with a grin.

Then Karofsky is in the doorway, watching, and when Kurt stops, he sees Burt's expression go from faintly amused to concerned.

"Who the hell was that?" Burt demands.

"Nobody," Kurt says, letting go of Blaine.

"Kurt, just tell him," Finn says.

"Finn-"

Then everyone's talking and finally Kurt just says it.

"He threatened to kill me."

It's not a second later before Burt's off running, and Kurt looks over at Blaine, just for a second, before running after him.

And he tries to pretend he didn't see the hurt in Blaine's wide eyes.

* * *

Karofsky is expelled.

And the wedding is perfect.

The New Directions sing to Kurt, and when Finn takes his hand and leads him in a dance, Kurt is still kind of shocked but he still registers, with some amusement, that Finn's actually been practicing.

* * *

The night Karofsky's expulsion is overturned, Burt sits him down.

"Look, Kurt," he says. "I want you to be safe."

"We can't do anything about him coming back," Kurt says quietly. "You can't do anything, dad."

"I can't make this kid go away," Burt agrees. "But I can keep you away from him. I need to keep you away from him."

Kurt meets his eyes. "How can you do that?"

"Carole and I have been looking into it," Burt says. "And there's this school."

* * *

Kurt only has until Monday to pack, because the Dalton administration wants to get him caught up as quickly as possible.

So Saturday night finds him in his room, Rachel and Blaine helping him choose which clothes to bring.

"You know you're going to a school with a uniform, right?" Blaine asks when Kurt holds up the tenth pair of jeans he's considering packing.

"I'm spending every moment I can out of it," Kurt says. "Polyester is terrible for my skin." He frowns down at his almost-full suitcase. "I am running out of space, aren't I?"

"You haven't even started on your shirts yet," Rachel points out, then stands, sighing. "I'll go get my suitcase, you can borrow it. It's the least I can do."

"Rachel," Kurt says for the twentieth time. "It's not your fault."

Rachel just bites her lip and walks out, and Kurt sighs, folding up the last pair of skinny jeans and setting them in the suitcase.

Then he stops, and sits next to Blaine.

"You must be so disappointed in me," he says softly, and Blaine stares at him, looking almost alarmed.

"No. No, I'm not, why-"

"I'm running away," Kurt whispers. "And you're staying. I wasn't strong enough and now I'm leaving you alone."

"No," Blaine says again, more firmly. "No, Kurt, don't... You're the strongest person I know. It's different, we all know Karofsky's had it out for you way more than the rest of us. You aren't safe there. You're not running away, and nobody is upset with you. We know you wouldn't leave if you had a choice."

Kurt is silent, so Blaine continues.

"Kurt... What did he do to you? There's something you're not saying. I know you."

"You know me too well?" Kurt asks with a wry smile.

"What is it?"

Kurt looks at Blaine's bruised eye and the worried set of his mouth and he just gives up.

"He kissed me," he whispers. "In the locker room, I went in and started yelling at him and he just...grabbed me and kissed me."

"Kurt." Blaine says. "Why wouldn't you tell me, why wouldn't you tell somebody at least..."

"I don't know. I don't believe in outing, I guess, and...I didn't know what you'd do. If you would go after him and get yourself hurt..." His eyes run over Blaine's eye again. "I should've known you'd do it anyway. At least you had backup."

"You need to tell someone. They can expel him for that, Kurt, I'm sure they can."

"There weren't exactly any witnesses," Kurt snaps, but there's no real fire behind it. "And it would ruin his life. I can't do that."

"I don't care about his life," Blaine argues. "I care about yours."

"Blaine," Kurt says seriously. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Kurt-"

"Promise me."

"God." Blaine runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. I promise. But he touches you again-"

"He won't. He won't be able to."

Blaine doesn't reply for a while, and when he does, Kurt can see the worry on his face even before he speaks.

"Is that what I did to you? Last summer? Did I steal your first kiss?"

"No," Kurt says immediately. "You didn't... You stopped. You stopped when I told you to."

"I tried to, though."

"No." It's the closest they've come to actually talking about their near-kiss. "Look, I was mad at you, but I didn't think you tried to steal anything, I was just upset."

"I hurt you."

"You didn't grab me and force yourself on me, Blaine, I was just upset because...it felt like it wouldn't have meant anything. And I wanted it to mean something." Blaine looks away, unconvinced, so Kurt grabs his arm and says, "You've never hurt me. I know you never would. Okay?"

Suddenly, Rachel appears in the doorway, holding a somewhat monstrously pink suitcase, and Kurt looks up past Blaine with a smile.

"That's great, Rach," he says. "It should fit all my shoes. Maybe. Thanks."

* * *

They spend most of Monday morning in the Dean's office, filling out paperwork, listening to a lengthy explanation about the zero-tolerance bullying policy, and trying to figure out how to make Kurt's credits from McKinley fill in for some of Dalton's more advanced classes.

He meets his roommate - Jason, who is fairly neat and doesn't seem homophobic, but does seem to talk about nothing but his own accomplishments at various sports.

Then again, he's a jock and he has yet to throw a frozen drink at Kurt. That's good enough for him.

* * *

Dalton takes adjusting to.

His audition for a solo at Sectionals is kind of a disaster, he hasn't gone this long without accessorizing in years, and he somehow has a bird to take care of now.

"I'm sorry," Blaine sympathizes as Kurt talks to him on speakerphone while he does his moisturizing routine. "You should have gotten it. I'm sure you were the best."

"Apparently I need to blend more," Kurt sighs.

"That's dumb," Blaine says indignantly.

"Well, it's how they do things." Kurt pauses, then admits quietly, "I miss McKinley. I mean, I don't miss the jocks, or the slushies, or the substandard cafeteria food, but I miss it."

"I miss you," Blaine says. "But you're coming home this weekend, right?"

"I can't. I have this ridiculous paper due and this guy who had the class last year said he'd help me this weekend." He looks around his room, sort of drab even with the expensive furniture, at the bird in the corner, and sighs. "I miss you too."

* * *

That weekend, when he finishes working on his paper with Greg, Rachel visits.

He finds her sitting in his room, listening to Jason with a strained expression.

"See, I was supposed to be out the next game because of my busted knee," he's saying. "But I said, hell no, I was going to be ready in time. It was the semifinals. So I spent six hours a day in physical therapy, and I came back and made the game-winning shot. The key is-"

"Kurt!" Rachel says loudly as soon as she sees him. "You're here!"

"Oh," Kurt says. "Rachel, how-I thought we had to sign guests in?"

Rachel waves a hand in dismissal. "So I thought I'd come see you, and I've been having a...pleasant conversation with your roommate, but I was hoping we could talk. Somewhere else?"

"Sure," Kurt says, wanting to laugh at the pleading look on her face. "Let's go for a walk, I'll show you the grounds."

"Make sure you come back, Rachel," Jason says with a grin, waving. "I'll tell you all the finals."

Once they're out in the hall, Rachel shakes her head.

"Does that boy talk about nothing but himself and how many competitions he's been in?"

Kurt bites his lip so he won't laugh, and says, "He's nice. So what's wrong?"

"I don't know," Rachel says, uncharacteristically quiet, kicking her feet as they walk out the heavy wooden doors of the dorm building. "I've missed you."

"I'm coming home next weekend."

"No," she says. "I've _missed_ you. I feel like we've just been...drifting, and we didn't realize it, and now you're just gone."

"I think we've just had more things to fight over since we got to high school," Kurt says, but his small smile disappears when he sees that she's actually crying. "Rach. Don't."

"I didn't even know how much Karofsky was hurting you, I should have noticed-"

"Nobody knew, Rachel."

"Blaine did," she says, looking down at her feet.

"Blaine's...perceptive."

"But you're okay here? You'd tell me if you weren't okay here?"

Unfortunately, she seems to sense his hesitation.

"Oh my god. Are they hazing you? Did they make you join a fight club? What's going on?

"It's nothing," Kurt sighs. "No bullying, I just don't really fit in that well. I don't know. I'll get used to it. Anyway. What brought this on, anyway?"

Rachel's face kind of falls before she speaks. "Did you know about Finn and Santana?"

Kurt winces. Because he actually did. And apparently that's enough for Rachel.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demands.

"I don't know," he says. "I guess we were still kind of fighting over him when I found out, and then you guys got together and I figured I should let him be the one to tell you."

"Well, he didn't," Rachel says, frowning.

"Rachel, you know he doesn't think things through," Kurt sighs. "He probably seriously underestimated Santana's wrath and thought you wouldn't find out, and that it would just hurt you anyway. I mean, you're not exactly thrilled about it now that you know."

"Santana's the one who told me," Rachel hisses. " _Santana_. In front of everyone."

And Kurt doesn't know what he can say to that, so all he can really do is pull her against him and hug her like he hasn't in a long time now.

"Kurt?" she mumbles into his chest after a minute.

"Yeah?"

She pulls back just enough to look at him quizzically. "Why is there a bird in your room?"

Kurt just laughs and hugs her again.

* * *

So Rachel, in her quest to write a good original song, decides she needs to "experience life," and something Finn says translates that into needing to throw a party while her dads are on their annual gay cruise.

"This is a terrible idea," Kurt says for probably the fiftieth time, sitting on the stage in the basement and watching Rachel decorate and Blaine, looking sort of bemused, help her.

"It's not like it's going to be a rager, Kurt," Blaine points out. "It's just the New Directions."

"Exactly," Kurt says, shaking his head. "You're not just going to stick a bunch of teenagers in a basement with wine coolers and a karaoke machine, those teenagers are made up of our glee club." He hesitates, then adds lamely, "Your glee club."

"We'll be fine," Rachel says, waving a hand at him. "There's a limit to two wine coolers each."

"Not for me," Kurt says firmly. "I've already had my horrifying first experience with alcohol. But I'm not really into babysitting the entire club all night. Or you two."

"Don't worry," Blaine says placatingly. "We don't need babysitting, Kurt, come on."

* * *

They need babysitting.

Rachel's two wine cooler limit lasts all of five minutes, and then Puck is mixing her dads' liquor cabinet into a giant bowl of punch, Blaine is trying to convince Artie to give him a wheelchair ride, and Rachel is hanging onto an unfortunately sober Finn.

By the time Kurt has pulled Blaine off of Artie and Brittany is back to sitting on his lap and practically eating his face, Finn has managed to extract himself from Rachel on his own.

"Okay," Kurt says, half-dragging Blaine over to the couch. "Time for a break. Let's get some water, okay?"

"Not thirsty for water," Blaine, who has seemed to lose all of his classic eloquence, says. "Want more of that pink stuff."

"No more pink stuff," Kurt says firmly. "Just... Lay down for a minute, I'll ge right back. Don't puke."

"No puking," Blaine promises.

When Kurt goes over to the bar, hoping there's at least some ice left, he finds Finn, who kind of appears to be hiding in the corner.

"You okay?" he asks dryly. "I think you're safe for now, Rachel's getting out the karaoke machine."

"Yeah," Finn says, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.

"Sure you don't want anything to drink?" Kurt asks. "I mean, it's nice having someone else here to stop everyone from killing themselves, but still..."

"I'm fine," Finn says, eyeing Quinn, who's busy shouting abuse at Puck. "Dude, you're like, really lucky to not be in the club right now."

"Thanks," Kurt says, trying to resist the urge to snap at him. "Nice to know I'm missed."

"No, I just mean..." Finn shakes his head. "Everyone's so messed up right now. I bet it's just really chill over there with all the blazers and, you know. No girls."

"Yeah," Kurt says, wincing as he sees Rachel and Blaine, who can apparently walk again, take the stage. "It's...definitely not like this."

When Rachel and Blaine finally finish their surprisingly good rendition of Don't You Want Me, Blaine hops off the stage and runs back to Kurt, grinning.

"Did you like my song?" he asks, eyes bright as he falls back into the couch next to Kurt.

"Sure," Kurt says indulgently. "I mean, it was a little weird given the whole twin thing, but it helps that you're gay and Rachel's been mooning over Finn all night-"

Blaine's loud, sudden laugh cuts him off.

"I don't want Rachel," he says through his laughter. "Duh."

"That is a huge relief," Kurt says.

"I don't want Rachel," Blaine repeats, bumping up against Kurt before letting his head drop onto his shoulder, laughter dying down enough that he can speak clearly. "I want _you_. Duh."

Kurt, who usually has a whole arsenal of comebacks for pretty much any interaction, freezes, because he has nothing.

"Blaine," he finally says. "Don't-"

"I'm sorry," Blaine says, pulling back to look straight at him, eyes wide and bright, all signs of amusement gone. "I do. I'm sorry."

"Don't," Kurt shakes his head. "Blaine, just... stop talking, okay?"

"I'm sorry, I just, I really do, and I want to tell you all the time but I can't because I don't want you to go away again, I never want you to go away again, I just..."

Kurt closes his eyes as if it'll make Blaine disappear, stop saying these things, stop looking at him like that.

He opens them. Blaine is still there, staring at him, and seems to take Kurt's silence as cue to continue.

"I just, I want to sing to you. Like, for real, sing to you, and hold your hand and kiss you, like all the time. I want to kiss you so much, want to kiss you _everyw-_ "

"Blaine," Kurt says, managing to keep his voice from shaking and speaking firmly enough that Blaine stops speaking. "Stop talking, okay? I don't... You need to stop. You're not even going to remember this in the morning."

Blaine blinks like he's trying to keep from crying.

"Sorry," he whispers.

And Kurt doesn't really have a response to that, so when Blaine leans back again and drops his head back into the couch, curling up into one of the many throw pillows there, all he can say is, "Just go to sleep, okay? Everything will be okay in the morning."

Blaine mumbles something into the pillow, and Kurt really shouldn't but he does anyway.

"What?"

"I said," Blaine manages, eyes closing even as he fights to keep speaking, "I'm still going to want you in the morning."

* * *

The next morning, Kurt wakes up to Blaine still curled up on the couch next to him and half the New Directions sprawled around the room asleep.

Unfortunately, his movement wakes Blaine, who blinks his eyes open slowly, then shuts them tightly again.

"Ow," he says. "Ow. Oh my god."

"Yeah," Kurt says, trying to sound more amused than he is. "I'll bet."

"I'm dying," Blaine informs him.

"You're not dying. Let me get you some water, okay?"

Blaine hums in agreement, eyes still shut, but he looks up at Kurt when he presses a glass of water into his hand. "You are the best person in the world."

"I think you're still a little drunk," Kurt shoots back, then steels himself before asking, "So... what exactly do you remember from last night?"

"I..." Blaine frowns in concentration. "I think I tried to ride Artie? And... Oh my god. Did I let Santana do a body shot off my chest?"

"That you did," Kurt confirms, relief coursing through him. "But I stopped you before you could reciprocate."

"Oh, thank god," Blaine sighs. "To the last thing, anyway. Thanks. You really are the best."

"If you say so," Kurt says, avoiding Blaine's eyes.

* * *

Rachel twirls before Kurt and Blaine, her pink skirt flying out around her.

"Well?" she asks.

"Perfect," Kurt says. "Did you decide on shoes?"

"Do I really have to be here for this?" Blaine asks, looking faintly amused but mostly bored.

Rachel ignores him. "I thought maybe we could go shopping tomorrow, none of mine are exactly right," she says. "And I know you're making your outfit, but you know you'll want the perfect accessories, Kurt."

Kurt sighs. "You know I always like shopping Rach, but... I'm pretty sure I'm not going."

"I thought it was the social event of the season?" Blaine asks, and then Kurt has to look at him.

"Yeah, but I can't go to the social event of the season without a date. That's just depressing."

"Kurt-" Rachel starts, but this time Blaine interrupts her.

"Come with me," he suggests, then quickly amends, "Come with us. He should, right, Rach?"

Rachel just bites her lip and looks between the two of them.

"I don't know," Kurt says.

"Come on," Blaine says. "I'm currently going with my sister and her sociopath ex. That's sad. Come with us and it'll be just a little less sad."

"Jesse is not a socio-"

"I - Okay," Kurt says, ignoring Rachel's huff of annoyance at being interrupted again. "I mean, we can all go. As friends. And one sociopath."

He expects Rachel to interject again, but when he looks up at her again, she's just watching Blaine, her face unreadable.

"So," Kurt says, eager to break the sudden, strange tension, "Shopping. Tomorrow."

"Right," Rachel says, shaking her head as if to clear it and grinning happily at him. "Tomorrow."

* * *

The night of the prom, there's a slightly awkward few minutes when Kurt and Jesse are stuck downstairs waiting for Rachel and Blaine to come downstairs, during which Kurt fights his hardest not to glare at Jesse and manages to just stay silent.

And then they're all there and on their way to Breadstix, and Jesse and Rachel are giggling together in the back seat, and as they walk inside to catch their reservation for four, Kurt wonders what it says about Lima that everyone he knows is going to prom is going to the same restaurant beforehand, however they're coupled up.

Finn and Quinn stop by their table while they're waiting for their pasta-and Kurt's salad, because he is not eating anything with pasta sauce while he's wearing his amazing prom outfit with his vintage McQueen dress shirt. Finn's cracks at Jesse aren't quite up to Kurt's standard of scathing remarks-after all, Breadstix definitely doesn't serve eggs and Kurt's pretty sure nobody would ever order them if they did-but he silently applauds him for his effort.

As their food arrives, Jesse once again begins describing his newfound business plan, and Kurt quickly changes the subject because he cannot sit through that again.

"So, prom queen," he says, and Blaine is quick to catch on.

"I think Santana's doing a good job with the whole sympathy vote thing," he says, and Kurt glances behind him to the booth where Karofsky and Santana are sitting close together, feeding each other ravioli and god, Lima really does only have the one restaurant.

"Prom royalty," Jesse sighs. "I remember that being important. Of course, I was prom king at Carmel four years in a row, but out in the real world I realize how little all that high school stuff really matters."

"High school stuff like grades and studying?" Blaine asks innocently, ignoring the look Rachel shoots him.

"Of course, if anyone in high school looks like royalty tonight," Jesse adds, smiling indulgently at Rachel, who flushes happily.

"Trying a little hard, don't you think?" Blaine asks quietly from behind his glass of water, and Kurt tries not to laugh.

"He seems to be doing a pretty good job," he points out, as Rachel scoots closer to Jesse and steals a bite from his plate.

"Really?" Blaine grins. "Well, I think if any lowly high school student looks royal tonight, it's you."

"Oh." Kurt blushes. "Yeah, see? That-that would be doing a good job."

"Thanks," Blaine asks, eyes twinkling.

Then Rachel proposes a toast to the prom, and soon enough they're off.

* * *

After the prom queen announcement, Kurt doesn't even think, doesn't even look around to see people's reactions. He just runs, only vaguely aware of footsteps behind him. Eventually he turns and falls back against a locker and sees Blaine standing there looking kind of hopeless.

"Kurt-"

"God," Kurt says, wiping his eyes, and it's times like this he wishes he didn't bawl his eyes out quite so easily. "God, I was so stupid. You must think I'm so stupid."

"No."

"I don't know why I believed anything would be different. Nothing's ever different, I'm such an idiot-"

"You're not an idiot," Blaine says firmly. "They're idiots."

"I just, I really thought..." he trails off. "God, I just feel so stupid."

Blaine sighs and leans back against the locker with Kurt, following him when he slides down to the floor because who cares about the stupid kilt now.

"You're not stupid," Blaine says. "Okay? You're just brave. Braver than people are used to, and that scares them."

"So much for Santana's sympathy vote," Kurt mutters, and Blaine cracks a sad kind of half-smile.

"If it helps, she ran out too. So did Quinn, and Brittany, and Rachel. But it's just...it doesn't matter, Kurt. It's a stupid prank."

Kurt just sniffs and accepts the tissue Blaine holds out for him.

"Do you want to go?" Blaine asks after a minute. "We can go."

After a long breath, Kurt shakes his head and stands up. "No," he says. "I'm not leaving. That's what they want. I'm going in there to get coronated."

"Yeah," Blaine says, pushing himself up and smiling at him. "Yeah, you are."

* * *

By the time Kurt is sure his face isn't red at all anymore, and he's fixed his kilt and walked slowly into the gym with Blaine behind him, Quinn and Rachel and everyone else who apparently ran out after the announcement are back too. He can feel their eyes on him.

And when he stands up on stage, in front of everyone, and says proudly into the microphone, "Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton," he can hear all of his friends cheering.

Of course, he forgot about the king and queen dance, and then he's being led down the stairs to the stage down to the dance floor with David Karofsky.

It's not a surprise when Karofsky runs as soon as Santana and Mercedes start singing.

By now, it really shouldn't be a surprise when he hears, behind where he's frozen and alone on and empty dance floor, "Excuse me." He turns and sees Blaine, eyes sparkling under the colored lights, face open and honest and kind. "May I have this dance?"

"Yes," Kurt says after a beat, letting out a long breath of relief. "Yes, you may."

* * *

Luckily, they came in Kurt's car and Jesse must have gotten a taxi or a limo or whatever's up to his standards, so it's just a short, albeit quiet ride home. Kurt's pretty sure none of them know what to say.

They pull into Kurt's driveway, and Rachel gives him a quick hug before disappearing into her own house. He suspects everyone involved just wants the evening to be over.

"C'mere," Blaine says, holding a hand out for Kurt and directing them towards Kurt's house. "I'll walk you home."

"All twenty feet?" Kurt says with a small smile. "I'm honored."

They walk to Kurt's front door in silence, and when they stop Kurt turns to face Blaine.

"Thank you," he says. "For being there."

Blaine smiles and bumps his hand against Kurt's where he's let go, then reaches up to gently adjust his crown for him. "I'll always be here."

"Yeah," Kurt says. "Yeah, I know."

There's a moment of silence, and Kurt has to close his eyes for a second because Blaine's looking at him like that again, like he's looking at the moon, his eyes, that warm brown Kurt has pretty much memorized over the years, bright.

"Are you okay?"

When Kurt's eyes open to lock on Blaine's he wonders what Blaine can see in them. He wonders if Blaine can see the need in them, the desperate need for Blaine to stop what's going to happen because Kurt just can't anymore, not when Blaine's looking straight at him and Kurt can still kind of feel where Blaine's arms held him when he danced and those parts of him are just a little colder than the rest in the cool night air.

But Blaine either doesn't get the message or he just doesn't want to stop it, doesn't realize how much of a mistake he'll be making, letting this happen, because he just stays still and keeps watching Kurt's face, eyes only closing when their faces are an inch apart and then their lips are touching, just briefly, a gentle brush.

The logical part of Kurt, the part that usually rules his actions, lets him do the smart thing, has gone silent, and he's pretty sure everything else has gone silent too except the wind in his ears and Blaine's small inhale when they break apart.

"I-" Blaine says.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says quickly before he can continue. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No," Blaine says quickly, reaching out for Kurt, hands catching his waist like they did when they danced. "No, don't be sorry."

"Okay," Kurt whispers, and doesn't move away when Blaine pulls him in, kisses him again, longer, deeper.

"God," Blaine says, when they finally break apart again. "Kurt, you have no idea... No idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Yeah," Kurt breathes. "Me too."

His hands have somehow migrated to rest on Blaine's chest, and as they stand silently he feels Blaine's heartbeat, a little faster than normal, but steady, steady against his touch.

It takes a second, but for some reason it's that, the reality of Blaine's heartbeat against his, that snaps him back.

"I'm sorry," he says again, surer, more clearly now that he's managed to break himself out of the spell. "That was a mistake. I'm sorry."

"What? No," Blaine says quickly, shaking his head, tightening his arms even as Kurt pulls out of them. "That wasn't a mistake."

"I have to go," Kurt says, untangling himself completely and reaching for the doorknob.

"Kurt—" Blaine says, but Kurt has the door closed behind him before he can say anything else.

* * *

The next day is Saturday, for which Kurt is thankful-he basically grounds himself to his room, doesn't even let himself look out his window at the house next door.

Sunday night, he knows he can't put it off anymore, he's going to see Blaine at school the next day and it's too late now to avoid this like he's been avoiding it for what feels like years.

He'd hoped he'd at least have some time to steel himself in front of Blaine's door after being let into the house by one of his dads, but Blaine's door is actually open, and even though he's sitting on his bed reading and listening to music, he spots Kurt as soon as he comes down the hallway.

"Hey," he says. He looks...tired. Weary.

Kurt kind of hates himself for being the one to do that to him.

"Hi," he says, awkwardly moving over to sit on the bed while Blaine pulls his earbuds out and tosses his iPod somewhere. "I guess we should talk. Which I'm not good at. But. We should."

"Okay." And damn, Blaine is going to make him lead this.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kissed you."

He's going to continue, but Blaine actually laughs, albeit a short, sad laugh. "That's what you're sorry for? Kurt, that's the thing I'm least upset about. I don't know if you've picked up on this, but I want you to kiss me."

"You don't want this," Kurt says, and Blaine frowns. Kurt doesn't think he's ever seen him like this, so hurt and closed off.

"Don't tell me what I want. I know what I want. If you don't, fine, but don't try to tell me-"

"Fine," Kurt says quickly. "You don't _need_ this." He follows with a vague gesture at himself, hoping that somehow gets his meaning across.

"Why not? What exactly is it you think I don't need?" Kurt's silence seems to spur him on, and he continues. "Kurt, why are you always so determined to believe something's wrong with you?"

"Because there is!" Kurt says, louder than he meant to. He didn't really mean to say it at all, actually, but he continues anyway. "There is, okay? There has to be."

Blaine looks at him, his expression sad and tinged with disbelief.

"No," he says softly. "There isn't."

"Blaine, my mom killed somebody," Kurt says, and stops for a moment, has to take a deep breath to continue. He's never said it out loud. He's never even really let himself think it. "She _killed_ somebody. And I was there. You know that. You always knew that, didn't you? You were nice, you never talked about it, but you knew."

"Yeah," Blaine says, even quieter, so Kurt can barely hear him.

"You know why I've never visited her?" Kurt asks, and suddenly it's just him, talking to his best friend, the person he trusts more than anyone, letting out secrets he's held for so long. "She's not that far away. I could see her anytime I wanted to. You know why I don't? Because I'm so afraid to look at her. I'm so afraid that I'll finally see her again and I'll look at her and I'll see myself."

Blaine doesn't say anything, so Kurt continues.

"She hurt people. She hurt everyone who loved her. I loved her so much. And I think she loved me. But she hurt _me_. I never want to do that to you. I feel like no matter what I do, there's always going to be a part of me that's capable of hurting the people I love like that."

"There isn't," Blaine says. Kurt doesn't know when it happened, but their hands are together on the bed between them, and Blaine squeezes his own. "Kurt, I don't know everything that happened to you. But I know you. And there isn't."

There's a long minute of quiet, heavy with anticipation, before Kurt shakes his head minutely.

"Please tell me you'll still be my friend," he whispers, because if Blaine stops being his friend he has no idea what he's going to do.

Blaine, nods slowly, with a small, sad smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Squeezing Kurt's hand again, he says, "I'll always be your friend."

* * *

Kurt shifts in his plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. He's dressed down, already plainer than usual before they had taken his brooch away from him at the entrance, and he almost feels naked.

Then he can't think about his outfit anymore, because there's a loud buzzing noise and the door in front of him and all the other visitors is opening, and she's walking towards him, and all he can think is how different she looks from the picture he's had in his head for years now. Her hair is short, unkempt, her eyes tired and dull. When she sits down, she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes the way it always did.

"Jesus," she says, sitting down across the hard plastic table from him. "Kiki. It's been a while, huh?"

Kurt closes his eyes briefly wonders when he forgot about that nickname. He fights the urge to tell her not to call him that. He isn't here to fight.

"Yeah," he manages. "A while."

Her eyes flicker down to the nametag he'd reluctantly stuck to his sweater. "You changed your name."

He doesn't look down. It's been long enough now and he's had enough practice writing it that it's no longer weird to read the words "Kurt Hummel" in reference to himself. "Yeah."

She looks at him as if waiting for an explanation, and sighs heavily when he doesn't give her one.

"So that's it?" she asks. "All grown up with a new family?"

"What did you think?" he snaps, despite his resolve to stay calm. "You'd get out and I'd still be eight years old, waiting for you to come home? Waiting for you to take me to Europe so we could be with my father and we'd be a happy family?"

"I was your family," she shoots back. "I still am."

Kurt reaches into his bag, which had been searched thoroughly upon his arrival. But they had let him keep the small stack of cards he'd brought, so he takes them out and slides them across the table. "You wrote these.. I don't know why I didn't see it earlier, but you did."

She looks down again, raises a hand to sift through them. She doesn't deny it, so Kurt continues.

"You wrote these, and you said they were from my dad. You lied to me."

"Kiki-"

"Was everything you ever told me a lie?" he demands.

"No." She actually, for the first time, looks hurt for a second before she manages to bring back the neutral expression she's had this whole time.

"Right, so my dad is, what was it? An international art dealer, right? And someday he was going to fly us to Europe and we were going to live with him? How stupid was I to buy that?"

"You were a child," she says defensively. "Okay? A child. You couldn't possibly understand, I was just trying to protect-"

"Protect me from what?" Kurt says. "The truth? I'm not a child anymore. What's the truth?"

She shrugs, and her tired smile is back. "Kiki, I don't know who your father is."

He doesn't have an answer to that, and she must be able to tell, because she continues after a second.

"There were a few," she says. "A few it could be. I always thought once you got older I'd be able to tell, be able to look at you and see some of him. But turns out you were all me."

"I'm not you," Kurt manages.

"Then who are you?" she asks, angry now. "Some woman who lets you live with her? Some man pretending he's your father? Kiki, it's you and me. That's all we ever had. That's all we have now."

"You don't have me," Kurt says, and he's glad for the table because he doesn't think he could stay sitting with her without something physically between them. "And I don't need you. I'm not like you."

"The why are you here?" she snaps, sharply enough that a guard near them glances over warily. "Well? Kurt, whatever you have now, it's not going to last. It never lasts, okay? Nothing lasts. Nothing but family."

"I have a family," he retorts. "Okay? I have a father. I have a mother, and a brother, and friends, and... I have somebody that loves me. That I love back. I don't need anyone else. I don't need you."

"So, you're just here to, what, show off your happy shiny new family?"

"No," Kurt says, closing his eyes for a second, willing himself to keep calm. "I had questions. More questions."

"Fire away, then."

He hadn't expected permission so quickly, so candidly, but he manages to ask, "You did it, didn't you? They practically begged me to tell them you did. They asked so many times. So many different ways, and all I could think of was to say that no, I didn't hear anything. No, my mom would never hurt that guy, he was her boyfriend, she loved him. No, I'd never seen that gun before. They were all lies, but I thought that was okay, because you couldn't have done that. It had to be a misunderstanding. It had to at least be you trying to defend yourself. Defend me. But it wasn't. You were angry, and you killed him. Is that it? Is that the truth?"

She sighs heavily. "Does it matter?"

He stands then. "I guess not," he admits, and before he turns away from her, he looks right into her eyes. They used to be the most beautiful color in the world to him. "Goodbye."

It isn't until he's walking away that he hears her voice, with a softness that he's never heard in it before. He doesn't even know if he was meant to hear it.

"Goodbye."

* * *

The parking lot is almost empty, but Kurt's Navigator is still parked far away from the entrance. He clicks the lock open as he approaches, climbs in, and looks over to the passenger seat.

Blaine looks at him expectantly, a line of worry across his forehead.

"You okay?"

Kurt bites his lip, nods slowly, and says, "You trust me, right?"

"I trust you." The answer is immediate, with no hesitation, and it makes Kurt smile for a second, and shift to face sideways so he can reach up and brush his hand over Blaine's cheek.

"So, if I told you this was real," he says slowly, not bringing his hand down, instead bringing his other hand up to cup Blaine's face in his hands. "If I told you this wasn't because I was upset, or feeling alone, or anything, it was because I'm happy, because I want this. I really want this. You'd believe me?"

Blaine breathes in sharply, then nods silently for the second he can before Kurt's leaning forward, holding Blaine in place as he kisses him. He pours everything he has into it, even when he can't help his smile when Blaine immediately gives back, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, bringing his hands up to fist into Kurt's shirt and pull him closer.

They finally part when Kurt runs out of breath, his smile growing as they rest their foreheads together, eyes slowly opening and meeting. Kurt can feel his heart racing, but it somehow also feels like it's beating the steadiest it ever has.

"I'm so in love with you," he says, not moving to kiss Blaine again but not moving away. "If that wasn't clear."

Blaine's laugh is beautiful and bright and just a little wet. "I can't remember a time I wasn't in love with you."

* * *

New Directions ends up on their flight to Nationals not in the least bit prepared, which shouldn't be as unsurprising as it is. But, despite Rachel freaking out over her rhyming dictionary the whole flight, Kurt can't bring himself to worry. He can't bring himself to focus on anything but Blaine's hand in his, the smell of his hair gel filling his nose as Blaine, half-asleep, rests his head on Kurt's shoulder.

Although he is grateful Rachel is distracted, because she still hasn't gotten over freaking out happily and having a mini photo shoot every time she catches them so much as sitting closely together.

He saves all the pictures she approves of and sends him, but still.

And the next day, the three of them get Breakfast at Tiffany's and talk about New York and the future and Blaine's weird straight crush on Audrey Hepburn. And Kurt eats his bagel, watches his best friend and his boyfriend bicker over whether it'll be weird for the three of them to share an apartment, and is pretty sure he never even dreamed he could be this happy.


End file.
